


In one piece

by creativefiend19



Series: Alter Ego (Another Self) [5]
Category: Call Down The Hawk - Fandom, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater, The Dreamer Trilogy - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Call Down the Hawk, Canon-Typical Violence, Catholic themes, Communication, Dom/sub, Dream Objects (Raven Cycle), Edging, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Kinky, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Missing Scene, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Adam Parrish, Past Abuse, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-The Raven King, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Epilogue, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slice of Life, Under-negotiated Kink, sort of a, the dreamer trilogy, yes my boys actually communicate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:15:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 91,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21602836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creativefiend19/pseuds/creativefiend19
Summary: CDTH Spoilers!Without giving too much away: Why is Adam's Caller ID what it is in Ronan's phone?This is fluffy, smutty, angsty, talky and kinky.Spans pre-epilogue of the Raven King to the end of CDTH.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Series: Alter Ego (Another Self) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1541212
Comments: 396
Kudos: 485





	1. How would that work?

**Author's Note:**

> Adam is named MANAGEMENT in Ronan's phone, in CDTH.
> 
> I read that, and I was just...gone. 
> 
> And this fic is the result.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam thinks about how he can make sure Ronan is okay after he leaves for Harvard.

Adam woke up alone in the Barns, the ceiling fan trying to move around the stagnant heat of a sweaty Virginia summer night. Ronan was not in their bed. Again.

Blearily padding down the stairs and looking out at the driveway, Adam saw that the BMW was missing. Ronan was driving, probably speeding, in the back fields or on the back roads, trying to work off his energy and restlessness and insomnia.

He made himself a cup of tea in the kitchen, listening to the deafening insect sounds that were always loudest in the quietest hours of the dark. A few months ago, he would have brewed some coffee, needing to have left soon for his night shift at the factory. But now that it was summer, he had given up all his jobs but Boyd’s. The Harvard scholarship allowed his bank balance some breathing room. Plus, he didn’t have to pay rent at St. Agnes anymore. He had officially moved into the Barns.

Things were complicated though. They were probably always going to be complicated, with him and Ronan in the mix. He was going to be gone in two months, leaving Ronan alone with the threat of the nightwash and the newly-emerging Cabeswater 2 ( _Lindenmere_ , Adam corrected). The new forest was almost complete, Opal and Ronan were just working on the final touches, and soon Adam would be able to walk through it while he scried and see if he could be the Magician again.

Just the thought of what Ronan was doing, what Ronan could do, blew Adam’s mind every time. This was considering Adam had once sacrificed his eyes and hands to a magical forest, and had those eyes and hands taken over by a demon that then tried to kill his friends and unmake his boyfriend. And Ronan’s ability to dream things up was _still_ the most fantastical thing Adam had ever seen. And to think all that unending wondrousness was contained within a starkly beautiful, human-shaped boy that Adam loved, and who loved Adam back.

Adam knew how that feeling of infinite potential felt; he fought that pull every time he scried, had almost lost himself to it more than once. It was too much for a human mind to grasp, for a single person to feel. This was not logic, this was magic. The rules were completely different, if any rules existed at all in dreams. Adam didn’t know how Ronan's brain didn’t just melt from all the possibilities he had to deal with. Maybe it did, and that’s why Ronan was out there doing donuts instead of dreaming.

The scientist in Adam was endlessly fascinated by Ronan’s abilities.

Ronan's dreamer energy was one of creation. It was dynamic and electric and alive and mutating.

And undeniable.

It was like being plugged into the fucking national grid.

It needed an outlet.

And if he didn’t dream, all that power would get turned inwards, and the nightwash would happen.

Yet, here was Ronan, not-dreaming right now despite knowing all this, trying to avoid his own reality and defy its rules. Ignoring consequences. Like he always tried to do.

Adam understood that desperation, though, that need to move so fast that you escaped yourself or wanting to claw off your soiled skin just so you could breathe clean and deep. It was how he had always felt about leaving behind the dirt of Henrietta, about outrunning the ugliness of the trailer, about someday basking in the utopian sunlight shining down on an Ivy League quad.

But all of that, all his years of yearning for those things, paled in comparison to his soul-deep craving for Ronan. His love for Ronan. His desire for Ronan. He had never wanted _anything_ as much as he wanted Ronan. And for Adam Parrish, creature of wants and needs, that was saying a lot.

Adam loved Ronan. This was undeniable as day, or night. His reasons for loving Ronan were endless or very simple or both, because it was Ronan. Who contained every dichotomy within himself, all of which added up to a single, indefinable, infinitely complex concept: Ronan.

Ronan, the man Adam loved.

And, also, Adam found that he viscerally loved the _maleness_ of Ronan. His height, his muscles, his musk, his baritone, his cock. Which answered a lot of questions Adam had once had about himself. And he loved other things about Ronan too, about him being a strong, virile man. He loved that he didn't have to be worried about always needing to be physically gentle with Ronan, whether sexually or while roughhousing around. That Ronan could hold him down by his wrists, or with his thighs or with his hips, and Adam could do nothing but struggle in vain against him, like a pinned butterfly. And he could do the same back to Ronan, though his control over Ronan was more erotic and emotional than purely physical. He loved that he was with someone who could meet and match the part of him that was strong, that hungered. Someone who did not need him to edit or fear the desperate, animalistic side to his nature. Someone who let him express himself fully and only asked that he do the same for them in return. 

Yes, he loved Ronan, and loving Ronan was filled with as many contradictions as the man himself was.

Like, sometimes, when Adam's bones were on fire, he couldn't get enough of Ronan.

Orgasm after orgasm and hour after hour and the wanting would not stop, would not go away, would be barely reduced. The lust for Ronan churning in his gut was more like the ebb and flow of the tide, with the mass and depth and weight of the ocean steady behind every wave.

He'd be biting marks onto pale skin with savage hunger or be desperately crashing into Ronan's tight heat or be hitting the back of Ronan's throat with each helpless thrust or hear the bed creaking under his good ear as Ronan powerfully fucked into him from behind, and Adam would still be wanting, wanting, wanting - until he felt like he would crawl out of his skin with the madness of it.

And other times, he was completely at peace. Because he was with Ronan. Awash with light and warmth and contentment. Fully whole. Not needing or yearning or craving anything at all, miraculously.

Like in the moments when he and Ronan were lying on the roof, watching the glowing moon and floating clouds and shooting stars in the endless blue velvet of the sky. Or when they were sitting on the front porch together, surrounded by fireflies dreamt and real, with Opal squeezed in between them, sipping hot cocoa and huddled under Aurora's quilts. When they were lying in the bright winter sunlight breathless with exertion and laughter, after a prolonged snowball battle complete with defensive walls and dirty tactics, and ending in yelps and curses as snow was viciously stuffed down collars and into jeans. When Ronan was asleep in Adam’s arms, exhausted from repeated lovemaking, breathing slow and deep, mouth young and sweet and soft in relaxed innocence, and Adam's whole world shrank to this house, this room, this bed, this man. And he finally, finally, wanted for nothing.

Adam of a few months ago would have raged and resisted when Ronan asked him to move into the Barns. (Of course, asked was a relative term when it came to Ronan: "Just fucking live here, Parrish. Don't be a stupid shithead", one morning while he was trying and failing to start the Hondayota, so he could reluctantly return to St. Agnes for some clean clothes.)

But the insatiable Adam of now wanted to spend every fleeting minute possible with Ronan, touching Ronan, loving Ronan. And also spend every possible minute at home. Because he was home, he had a home now. Home. It was like he had been turning the knob on a radio all his life and had suddenly found the station he was looking for. Or it was like he could hear in both ears again. It was a combination of _Oh! I get it!_ and _Finally!_ and _I'm a real boy!_

Until school ended, it had taken everything he had, every habit of discipline and denial he had built into his mental muscle memory all these years, to lock himself into Declan's room and study to keep his grades up, or tear himself out of Ronan's strong arms and their warm bed and go back to St. Agnes or to work.

He had kept up his three jobs till the start of the summer, as he had to pay for Aglionby, buy gas for his shitbox (until it broke down: "Just drive the fucking Beemer, you sphincter. It runs on nothing." "Sure, and that'll convince people to keep me in my minimum wage jobs." But he had driven the fucking Beemer) and save for spending money at university. Though Ronan wouldn't let him pay for food ("We live on a farm, you _moron_. We _make_ our own food"), he insisted on buying anything that needed to come from the shops ("For God's sake, Ronan, you can't say you'll dream up - I don't know... _toilet paper!_... just so I won't spend money on it. That was _not_ a challenge, by the way, you asshole.").

And just like him, Ronan was finally home. He was building his home again with Adam, at the Barns. Had found home again, after almost losing it, after almost losing his life and after losing his mother. It would be so hard for Ronan to lose more people, especially when he had so few people that he truly loved, and even fewer that he liked.

Adam needed to make sure Ronan was going to be okay, especially after he left. Ronan's entire support system would be felled over the course of this one summer. Gansey, Blue and Henry were already gone. Opal was now in Lindenmere. The Fox Way ladies and the newly-orphaned Lynch brothers would be the only company Ronan would have on a regular basis.

Adam needed to figure out how to help Ronan from all that distance away. How to somehow be there for him. Somehow make sure Ronan didn't self-destruct from his crazy wildness.

He and Ronan had never needed to kill each other's demons. Or needed to stop each other _being_ their own demons. But they were both people of action, not really communication (though they were getting better at it). Adam needed some sort of - _trigger_. Some way to remind Ronan that he was there. That he was with him, metaphorically by his side. Remind Ronan of how Adam could make him feel good. 

And Ronan was all about feeling good, or at least, feeling _a lot._ He had always been a hedonistic creature, an adrenaline junkie, impulsively chasing sensations, the more extreme the better.

And they both had a history of chasing extreme sensations, especially when they were together.

Like during sex, for example.

Hmmm.

*  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only internal-monologuey chapter, don't worry. I needed set-up.


	2. You wouldn’t get it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the angst. 
> 
> So much angst. Well, flashback angst. Well, flashback self-hatred, to be precise.
> 
> But wait...there's also...communication! Yes, you read right. Pynch communicate! Hallelujah!
> 
> Please read the tags for TW.

Ronan had always been someone who'd chased sensations. Racing and drinking and speeding and fighting and destroying. And creating, if Adam was being completely honest. 

And Adam had usually (always? no, usually) gone along with it. Like crashing the shopping cart with Ronan, or getting scabs being dragged around by the BMW or any number of other crazy, extreme things they had tried together. Adam would only do all this when he was with Ronan, though. Because it was Ronan. It was with Ronan. And because they were each never more alive, and themselves, than when they were doing stupid shit together. 

And perhaps not surprisingly, they had found out that it translated to sex, too. Sometimes. Not often, but sometimes. 

They found this out pretty soon after they'd first started having sex.

(Their first time - of proper sex? full on sex? - had been on New Year’s Day, above the church, to the lilting - and appropriate - sounds of bells and worship. Not that they heard any of it. And thankfully, no one could hear them either.)

They had all still been reeling from everything that had happened with the demon. Yes, it was about Blue kissing Gansey, knowing she was going to kill him, Gansey sacrificing himself and then coming back, and Ronan's mom murdered and Cabeswater gone and dealing with the repercussions of all this. For Adam in particular, however, it was mainly about the demon. 

And, surprisingly, them pushing against some boundaries during sex didn't actually _start_ with sex. Or even with being horny.

It started with Adam having a breakdown about the demon. 

*

Adam clawed his way back from yet another awful, horrible dream, gasping in the winter morning half-light. It was a few weeks into the new year. He found the bed clothes twisted around his sweaty body, and Ronan looking down at him, hand on his shoulder. They were both naked, like they usually were when in bed together.

"Wake up, Adam. _Adam_. It's a nightmare."

Ronan didn't say 'just a nightmare', because that would've been...inaccurate. They both knew about the power of dreams. 

Adam lay back on the pillow, gasping, took Ronan's hand from his shoulder and held on with a death grip.

"The demon again?"

Adam nodded, lips colourless and mouth dry, and sat up against the headboard to drink some water, hand still white-knuckled around Ronan’s. 

"Fuck, Adam." 

" _What?_ What d'you want me to say? Sorry I messed up your beauty sleep?" Adam was always snarky when he was tired, or upset, or sleep deprived. So, yeah, Adam was pretty much snarky the whole time. "Fuck you, Lynch."

He made to get up and leave the bed, needing to be anywhere but here right now. Anywhere but with Ronan. With a Ronan who was looking at him with way too much understanding in his eyes. 

Understanding was too close to pity for Adam's comfort. And he never wanted pity. Especially from Ronan.

Ronan pulled him back onto the bed, firmly but gently, hand still clasped in his.

"Look, I know all about nightmares, okay? You're looking at the fucking mothership of nightmares right here." Ronan ran a hand down his face tiredly, stubble making a faint scraping noise against his palm. He had probably not been sleeping anyway, Adam knew. But he was still beautiful, even without his beauty sleep.

"You know," Ronan continued, hesitant, trying to put together the right words to not scare or anger Adam away, "with the night horrors, it took me a long time to figure out why they were trying to kill me. Opal helped me with it, finally."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, it was because you subconsciously _wanted_ them to kill you. They were a part of you. _Ergo_ -" Adam rolled his eyes and rolled his hand, making a 'go on' gesture that was so condescending and contemptuous that he hated himself with a vengeance at that moment. And yet he was still unable to stop being the shittiest version of himself to his loving boyfriend. 

Who was only trying to help him and empathize with him. 

And that was just… _unbearable_.

"Yeah, well, you fucking genius. Work it out for yourself, since you're so goddamned smart," Ronan snorted, ignoring Adam's sarcasm. He was getting pretty good at that, actually. Surprisingly. For Ronan.

"What? You think I keep dreaming about the demon because I -what? Want to kill myself? 'Cos I don't -" Adam frowned, trying to understand what Ronan was getting at.

Ronan just looked at him, as close to patient as Adam had ever seen him. 

"You mean, because I hate myself," Adam said, slowly. Not a question. "Because I think the demon is me, a part of me." Again, a statement of fact. The minute he said it, he knew it was true. He drew in a shaky breath.

Despite being known more than ever before in his life, especially by Ronan, Adam Parrish's mind was still an unknowable place apparently, to himself at least. 

"What exactly do you dream about with the demon?" Ronan asked, unemotional and non-judgemental. Just one dreamer to another. No big deal. But he stroked his thumb along Adam's knuckles.

"My hands around your neck. Tearing Blue's stitches. Being tied and blindfolded and hearing you being unmade. Not being able to help. Not being in control. Being weak." Adam's breaths were getting shorter, more hitched, as he closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. 

"Why do you think you were weak?" Ronan asked, not putting too much gentleness into the question, knowing it would make Adam clam up. Or bolt.

"Because -" it was so clear to Adam, but he still struggled to express it correctly, "the demon chose _me_ , could control me, used me. Not anyone else.” His everything was shaking now, his hands, his voice, his body.

“It controlled Noah,” Ronan countered, matter-of-factly. 

And then Adam just couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't stand having to spell all this out, as if the connections he was making were not absolutely obvious. The thread of control that was barely holding him together snapped. He could almost hear it give. His vision clouded with the familiar, white-hot film of rage and he heard his blood rushing in his ears. In both his ears.

“He was a fucking GHOST!!!” Adam yanked his hand away from Ronan's, and was suddenly shouting, yelling, voice cracking under the strain of finally saying out loud the things that had been eating him up from inside for weeks.

Thankfully Opal wasn't here, or she’d be running into their room in a panic.

“Noah was A FUCKING GHOST, Ronan. He was not _alive_. He was not _human_. And there were so many of us, alive and human. There was even fucking _Cheng_ for God’s sakes, who didn’t know shit about any of these things, and the demon still CHOSE ME!!! I was the Magician, I was supposed to be protected, powerful. But it still got _me_ to hurt Blue, _made_ me hurt you. YOU! And I COULDN’T STOP IT, RONAN.”

Adam was crying then. Sobbing, mouth open in a silent wail, in complete agony. Clawing at Ronan’s hand but wanting no comfort at the same time. _Please hold on to me; please don't touch me_. He felt dirty and ugly and unworthy. 

Ronan still sounded calm and in control, in the eye of the emotional storm raging around Adam, as he took Adam's hand once more into his own. But his lips were a pressed straight line, skin white at the corners of his mouth and around his nostrils, though Adam didn’t see it. “Why do you think it chose you?”

“Because I was, I am, the least human of everyone there.” Adam’s chest wracked with sobs as he leaned his head against the headboard and closed his eyes.

“I’m the fucking Greywaren, Parrish. I’m a half-dream dreamer. I’m pretty not-fucking-human, man.”

Adam laughed wetly, unable to understand how Ronan didn’t _get_ what was so obvious to him. “Ronan, you’re so _good._ You dream up baby ravens and beautiful brothers. I dream up twisted murders. You didn’t hurt me even though I would've killed you. And I _am_ capable of that. I proved it. The demon knew that about me. It wasn’t just my hands and my eyes. It was ME.” Adam kept prodding hard against his chest with his fingers, not knowing how else to get the point across to Ronan.

Ronan immediately took Adam’s hand away from his reddening skin and held onto it. Held on to both of Adam’s cold, shaking hands with his large, warm ones and kissed them softly. And didn’t say anything about it.

Just asked, quietly, “What do you think the demon knew about you?”

“That I could hurt the people I loved. That I _would_ hurt the people I love. I have that inside me, Ronan. I have it from _him._ ”

Neither of them needed to ask who _him_ was.

At that, Adam broke completely. Ronan gathered him into his arms and onto his lap and rocked him soothingly, pressing his mouth wetly against Adam’s tear stained cheek. Grounding him in all the ways he knew how.

“I’m worse than him, Ronan,” Adam sobbed against Ronan’s neck, fingers digging into his back, the confession tearing itself out of his very soul. Putting into words the most hated, black, dirty, oozing secret about himself. Worse than the demon. Worse than anything.

“How are you worse than him, Adam?” There was a hitch in Ronan’s breath for the first time, betraying that he was not unaffected by what Adam was going through, by what he had been saying all this time. Adam knew how Ronan felt about Robert Parrish. And to hear Adam say that he thought he was worse, that he _knew_ he was worse than him, would simply not compute in Ronan’s mind.

“ _How are you worse than him, Adam_?” Ronan’s calmness was back, staying strong so Adam could lean on him, like he was doing now with his whole body and soul. Even in the middle of this shitshow, Ronan had put Adam's head on his right shoulder, so he was whispering into Adam's good ear. Somewhere inside Adam his heart broke all over again at that realisation, of knowing how much he didn't deserve the love of this man.

He mouthed his words into the warm skin of Ronan's neck, not knowing or caring if he could actually be understood, “Because though he hurt me, at least he didn’t love me. I was nothing to him. It’s so much worse when you hurt people you love, Ronan. _I_ hurt the people I love. I hurt you. I would have killed you. And you would have let me.”

Adam was now exhausted from his soul-crushing internal storm, simply taking deep shuddering breaths and saying the words in a flat, unemotional voice, just so this could be _over_. So that he could then leave. Get dressed, get into his shitbox and drive somewhere far, far away from people he could hurt, from people he loved, from people he would hurt because he loved them, because they made the mistake of loving him back. Unlovable thing that he was.

“Adam. _Adam_.” Ronan seemed to struggle with words. He _should_ struggle, Adam thought viciously. There _were_ no words. And Ronan didn’t lie. Wouldn’t lie even to make him feel better right now, Adam knew. What could he say, really? There was no fixing this. No fixing Adam.

So he waited, fully expecting to be vindicated. Let Ronan _know_ who he really was. Let Ronan _see_ him properly, for once. Ronan would not love him once he saw the truth about Adam. Ronan, who was beauty and light and love, and Adam, who was a dark black hole of hate and dirt and bad genes and violence. He knew he didn’t deserve Ronan. Let Ronan finally open his eyes, so this charade could end.

He felt Ronan take a deep breath before he began to speak: “Adam, the demon used you because it was in Cabeswater. And you are part of Cabeswater, were even more a part of Cabeswater at that time. You had given Cabeswater your hands and eyes. So the demon…co-opted that…hijacked that. Took over than connection. And Noah was part of the ley line, which was also part of Cabeswater. So the demon used him too. It just used the people with the most connection to where it was, so it could appear. It wanted to unmake me, but it needed access to me. So it used Cabeswater and you and everything that was a - a conduit to me. It was about _me._ And...and -” here Ronan dug his hand into Adam’s hair and pulled his head back gently so he could look into his eyes, waited till Adam looked back, “And you _stopped it_ , Adam. _You_ stopped the fucking demon from controlling you. Do you know how much control _that_ took? How much power you needed to have had? How ‘good’ you needed to be? _I_ couldn’t stop the demon. I was busy being un-fucking-made by it, wasn’t I? Gansey had to goddamn _die_ so we could get rid of that motherfucking piece of shit. And you stopped it by yourself, inside your own head. With no help. With your hands and eyes tied.”

Adam was staring at Ronan, but not actually seeing him. He was living through the memories of that time in the backseat of the car. Listening to Ronan being unmade, listening to Persephone saying in his mind: _“That does not make you a demon.”_ And finally, Adam choosing: _“These eyes and hands are mine”._ And then they were. Then he had broken the hold the demon had over him. Taken back control. Become Adam Parrish once again.

“You would _not_ have hurt me without the demon controlling you, Adam. You keep saying that I didn’t hurt you back, that I would have let you – not you, the fucking demon – kill me. But you don’t know how it would have been the other way around, right? If I was the one controlled by it, and I was squeezing the life out of you, would you have hurt me?”

“I would have stopped you.” Adam was suddenly himself again. Back to being logical, rational Adam Parrish, brow furrowed in his tear-streaked face as he argued with Ronan, as per usual. Though he was sitting naked on his naked boyfriend’s lap, having just had an emotional breakdown about a mythical demon possessing him.

“Well, I stopped you, too.”

Adam looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“Well, I did, finally. I stopped you before you fucking killed me, okay? That was the point you were trying to make, right?” Ronan said, pulling Adam closer to him, arms tightening around his lower back.

“Yeah,” Adam admitted, unable to deny the fact. Something eased in his chest. A part of his core shifted and resettled, changing his internal landscape. It was how it felt when he used to repair the ley line. A sense of rightness, of truth.

He _had_ stopped the demon, by himself - with Persephone. _“That does not make you a demon.”_ He drew in a deep, cleansing breath and let go of a load he hadn't even realized that he was carrying. Let go of a fear he hadn't even realized he had.

He was _not_ Robert Parrish. And he was certainly not _worse_ than him.

And Ronan _had_ stopped him.

Adam closed his eyes, wrapped his arms tighter around Ronan's shoulders, and tried to remember exactly what had happened.

Ronan had come up behind him, pinned his arms to his sides and said…

“ _Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit,_ " Adam recited, and opened his eyes, looking at Ronan quizzically. Because he suddenly had a question.

"You said that. What did you mean by it? I mean, I know what it _means_ but…it meant something else to you, right? Something more?"

Adam was now sure that this point had been nagging at him for a while, though it had been pushed aside because of the bigger issues about the demon. But, even at that time, while it was happening, a part of his mind had thought that there had been a _tone_ to Ronan's voice, a subtext to the words, that he didn't get.

And for the first time that night, for the first time in a long time, Ronan...blushed.

Adam looked in wonder at this amazing man, who was the Greywaren, who had just out-argued usually coldly-logical and imperturbable Adam, and talked him down from his self-hatred ledge. And suddenly he was _blushing_ pink to the tips of his ears and not meeting Adam's eyes, all because Adam had quoted a _Latin phrase_?

And then Adam realised that Ronan was _getting hard_ under him.

“Ronan. What the _fuck_?”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where is the smut? Where is the kinkiness? How does all this relate to MANAGEMENT, you ask?
> 
> Stick with me. It's all part of the plan.
> 
> Please leave kudos or a comment to let me know if you liked it so far!


	3. Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more angst.
> 
> Some more communication.
> 
> And, finally, some smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read tags for TW.

  
Ronan buried his face in Adam's shoulder, as Adam stroked his buzzed head, gentle but wondering. He could feel the growing heat from Ronan's blush.  
  


"Ronan, this is turning you on?" Adam could feel Ronan take in a breath that trembled slightly. It wasn't actually a question, as Adam had growing evidence of Ronan's excitement pressed against him. It was more that he was surprised.  
  


"Is it the Latin part?"  
  


Ronan snorted.  
  


_Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit_  
  


Only Ronan, Adam thought, would have enough Latin quotes at his fingertips that he could just pull the perfect one out of thin air, even in a life and death situation. And then think nothing of it.  
  


And it wasn't only natural talent, Adam knew. Ronan had worked hard at Latin. Applied himself to the subject with a vengeance, because he had wanted to communicate with Cabeswater in the language he thought it was speaking. He was ahead of Adam, had always been; he was at the top of the class, for God's sakes. And had stayed there, despite Adam’s best efforts.  
  


Adam hardened a little himself, at that.  
  


Shit, Ronan was so _smart_. It was so easy to underestimate him, to only know one part of him and think that was all of him. Think that was all there was. Adam had made that mistake himself. Given his emo/goth/punk/skinhead aesthetic (Adam wasn't really sure if any of that was accurate. Though he was a teenager, he'd never cared about or had time for all that stuff and there weren't exactly many reference points for such sub-cultures in Henrietta), on seeing Ronan, no one would guess that he could recite lines from Virgil or Catullus or any number of other classics from memory in the original-fucking-Latin. It was just - so sexy. Ronan's brain was seriously sexy (well, so was his body).  
  


They were so different in their attitudes towards education. Ronan could have actually done so much at school, gone so far. Well, it was his choice to make, but it could be seen as a waste (and according to Declan, it was). Though actually, Adam thought, it wasn't exactly school that was wasted on Ronan. It was Ronan who was wasted on school. There weren't really classes on dreaming or imagining or manifesting or any other things relevant to Ronan’s reality. Which was all such a mindfuck, seriously.  
  


"Okay, then it's about the meaning? That…what?...we'd think about all of that one day with - pleasure?" Adam's voice was bemused. He lifted Ronan's head and tried to catch his eye, racking his brain to remember the text. "You thought we would look back on the horrible stuff happening to us - the demon possessing me and hurting us and...laugh?" That didn't make sense.  
  


"Not exactly," Ronan mumbled against Adam's neck, and then suddenly lifted his head and said, to Adam's eternal astonishment, "Actually, it could mean bonding over misery. Or, like, this shit won't break us, only make us stronger. Not just the literal translation that it would…help, or be pleasant, to remember this later." And then Ronan ran out of steam in his professorial Gansey-like moment. He flushed a deeper red, hid his face once more in Adam's shoulder, and said very softly, _'Fuck'_ , like he couldn't believe he'd said all that at a time like this.  
  


Adam's mouth opened in disbelief and he actually hardened a little more  
  


"But that's not - why I said it - _that_ way. You're right, it - fuck - it meant something more," Ronan clarified, defiantly.  
  


"Ronan," Adam was getting exasperated. There was no need that he could see to be so embarrassed. And for Ronan to be embarrassed was just - _weird_. "Tell me," he said more gently, against his scalp. "Was it something to do with me?"  
  


"It was just that - some parts of what happened that day were...kinda hot, okay? For me."  
  


Adam had really NOT been expecting that.  
  


"It was hot?? That I was hurting people, hurting you? The horror, the violence was _hot_?" There was a definite edge to Adam's growing voice now, though he was trying hard to keep his anger under control. Because he really wanted to understand this and did not want to scare Ronan away. Knowing Ronan, he would never talk about this ever again, then.  
  


"No!" Ronan said, looking up hurriedly, "No. Not that part. The part where you had your hands around my neck, _was_ \- kinda - for me. And not the part where you hurt, me, not exactly, but… And also the part where I - restrained you - was…interesting." Ronan was back to mumbling.  
  


And he sounded apologetic. Ronan was _never_ apologetic.  
  


Adam sat back a bit so he could look at Ronan better. He put his hands on either side of Ronan's face, reined in his temper and just tried to listen.  
  


“Ronan. Ronan. Look at me, okay? Help me understand. How it was hot that I hurt your throat?”  
  


“No, not that, Adam. Not that part. It was just - well, first, it was your hands. Your hands can pretty much do anything to me and I would find it hot, okay?” Ronan gave an embarrassed sigh and looked away from Adam, and rubbed the back of his flushed neck.  
  


“You and your fucking hand fixation,” Adam huffed, half-amused, half-upset, “So, what, my hands could literally be killing you, they _would’ve_ killed you, and you would have just died in some kind of…ecstasy?  
  


“Hey, saints did it all the time,” Ronan stopped at Adam's glare, “But, no, I didn’t want you to kill me or hurt anyone else. And you were hurting yourself, too; the demon was hurting you. And I stopped you, remember?”  
  


“And that's why you stopped me? Not because my hands were squeezing your throat? No, no, Ronan. I'm trying hard to be okay with this, because I love you (thankfully they’d said it to each other already, or this would've been a _really_ inconvenient time to bring it up), but I am _not_ okay with violence turning you on, especially violence committed by me. I don't care if you get off on it. At least, you can, if you want to, but I won't be a part of it.” Adam was really angry now, and feeling - disappointed - with Ronan, somehow. He needed some space.  
  


Adam could tell, though he didn’t exactly care much right this minute, that Ronan was panicking that Adam was really upset, that Ronan had upset him. And while Adam knew that Ronan had been so supportive just a short while ago, when Adam had been trying to sort through his own shit, Adam just _couldn’t_ be there for him in the same way. And a part of him was telling himself that he was being a bad boyfriend, not as understanding of Ronan as Ronan had been of him. But this connection between violence and…pleasure…was something Adam _could not_ understand. Could not support. They’d talk about it more some other time, when he was calmer, but not right now. He tried to wriggle out of Ronan's strengthening grip.  
  


“Adam, _Adam_ , wait. _Shit!_ I’m just - explaining this really badly,” Ronan held on to Adam’s waist, stopping him from leaving. His voice trembled. “It's - it’s not like that okay? It’s not about the demon. It’s not about all the horrible things that happened that day. It’s…it’s, just that - I just used to have these fantasies where you would, I don't know, hold me by my throat while we fucked. Sometimes, hold me really hard. Like, I don't know, you would be in control. Would control me. And also, there were other times when you wouldn't…hurt me. Not like the demon or anything, but that you'd, maybe - uh - spank me, or something - for fun. And sometimes, I - I would…I'd restrain you, like - fucking - tie you up and stuff, or hold you down. And then, drive you goddamn insane or whatever. And that day, later, when your hands and eyes were tied in the backseat? I mean, I wasn't exactly thinking about it at that time...but. In another context, that would've been a total fucking turn on too. Seeing you tied up and - and - blindfolded and - in the backseat of my car - _Jesus_.”  
  


Ronan took in a shaky breath after that torrent of fast words and dragged a trembling hand over his mouth. He was fully at attention now, pale skin flushed all over with arousal, chest heaving. But he took a deep breath, looked into Adam's eyes and continued.  
  
  
“Look, I know you, we all, went through a lot that day, and I’m not saying any of it was fun, or pleasurable, or anything good like that, for anyone. I mean, that demon fucking killed my mother. There was _nothing_ about it that was good. It’s just that - I had these crazy fantasies, okay, for so long, about you, about us doing so many things to each other. And some of the stuff that happened that day, just…reminded me of it, a bit, okay? I’m sorry. I’m - Adam. _Please_.”  
  


Adam was breathing hard now, looking into Ronan’s eyes. Eyes wide in a face that looked suddenly young and petrified, full of an expression Adam had never seen before. That he was pretty sure no one had ever seen before.  


And Adam’s brain was trying to take in and sort through all this new information. These new perspectives. He always knew that Ronan did some crazy shit. And Ronan even got _others_ to do crazy shit _with_ him. Like Adam and Noah. And sometimes even Gansey. And Adam remembered Ronan's and Kavinsky’s psycho connection. Why should it surprise him that Ronan could have - extreme - interests in sex, as well? Well, Adam’s mind supplied, these aren’t really _extreme_ interests. Tying up your boyfriend and making him beg held a certain…appeal. And Adam could see how blindfolding might be…sexy. He was beginning to see how Ronan could be attracted to stuff like that, could understand a little bit about how some (but not all) of that could be a turn on, especially for Ronan. And Ronan restraining him, well, that was a bit hot for Adam too.  
  


Because Ronan was so strong.  
  


_Fuck._  
  


All sorts of images were flashing through Adam’s mind now.  
  


Adam's erection had flagged when they had started talking about violence and he still didn’t agree with everything that Ronan said, but now his dick had started getting interested again very quickly.  
  


And, so, instead, he settled himself back, properly, deliberately, on Ronan's lap, and started slowly rocking himself against Ronan's still-erect cock.  
  


Ronan looked up at him, one eyebrow raised, a disbelieving look in his darkening eyes. "What? You're suddenly okay with this now?" he said, sardonic and defensive and afraid of being judged again. His mouth was twisted in self-loathing, uncomfortable with sharing something so shameful and vulnerable with anyone, even Adam.  
  


Well, they’d both shared some pretty - private - stuff today.  
  


Adam looked into Ronan’s clear blue eyes and watched his lashes flutter as Adam deliberately ground into him a bit more. And he just ignored Ronan's question. And didn’t reassure or comfort Ronan in any direct way. Because, sometimes, he could be a little shit.  
  
  
Instead he asked, just a little breathlessly, “So. If I hadn't brought it up, you wouldn't have said anything? About the tying up thing and throat thing or the other stuff?”  
  


“No.” Ronan's voice held no uncertainty. "And I never expected you to figure it out from that fucking _quote_ that day."  
  


“Why wouldn't you tell me?” said Adam, genuinely curious, but he still rolled his hips more pointedly against Ronan's, and delighted when he saw and heard and felt Ronan gasp hard. “Don't you want me to know what turns you on?”  
  


Ronan’s voice was breathless and shaky, but his words were clear, “Adam, first of all, EVERYTHING about you turns me on, okay? Everything.”

He put his hand against Adam's neck and pulled him closer so their foreheads touched and they breathed each other’s air for a few moments. Both settled into their skins once again, enjoying that the fight was over and that they were back to things they could understand. And were very good at.  
  


Then Ronan said, “Also, that's - that other stuff’s for later or whatever - or never, even - okay? It's just my weird, twisted brain. We have loads of time. We can try stuff, if we want to. Or not.” He breathed out long and hard and looked back into Adam's cornflower blue eyes.  
  


“Adam, I'm really, really happy that I just...get to have sex with you, okay? Just regular, normal sex with you is fucking magical. Amazing. Mind-blowing. The best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I wanted this for so long, wanted you for so long. And I never thought I would ever have it. Have you. It’s enough that I just -” his breath hitched as Adam was now fully erect and sliding against him, “ - it’s enough that I get to have this with you. You kissing me, you sitting naked on my lap, me getting to touch you. I don’t need anything else. None of that other stuff matters. This is fucking exciting enough for a million fantasies.”  
  


Adam kissed him then. Softly, and then harder and more dirty.

He dragged his face away from Ronan’s with some difficulty, breathing hard. He needed to say everything before he soon lost the ability to speak. To think. Because he was SO fucking turned on. And he knew that Ronan was too.  
  
“Okay,” said Adam, deliberately but quickly, “we're going to talk about this more, later, and you're going to tell me everything, _everything_ , that turns you on, okay? Even the crazy stuff. _Especially_ the crazy stuff. Not so we can do all of it. I’m not saying that. Maybe we won’t do any of it. Or not right away. But I just, I just wanna know what it is, okay? I wanna know you. ‘Cos today has shown that I really have no fucking clue what goes on in your head.” He put his forehead back against Ronan's as they both took a deep, relieved breath.

  
“But first, Ronan?”  
  


“Yeah?”  
  


“First you're gonna fuck me.”  
  


Ronan was up on his knees in a flash, holding Adam around him. And with a helpless moan Adam held on to Ronan’s shoulders, wrapped his legs around Ronan's waist more tightly and began to buck his cock against Ronan’s in earnest. Allowing himself to let go.

“God, Adam, _yes._ Shit.” Ronan was as hungry as he was, kissing him hard and messy. All tongues and teeth and heat and wetness  
  


For all his desperateness, Ronan laid him down gently on the pillow. He tried to get out of his clingy embrace but Adam tightened his limbs and said, “Where're you goin’?”  
  


“To get the lube,” said Ronan.  
  


Adam cut him off with a kiss and gripped his heels harder around the small of Ronan's back. Ronan moaned and sank down on him, rocking against him again, as Adam scratched his nails down the fucking tattoo that was turning him on even though he couldn't see it.  
  


“Unghh!” Ronan tried to reach the lube from their current position but couldn't. Adam was now grinding up against him in mindless want, hands stroking anywhere he could reach.  
  


“Okay, Adam, just let me go for a moment, Adam, for fuck's sake. I'm not going anywhere, trust me. Jesus, Adam, _we really need the lube_ ,” Ronan said, between kisses that kept threatening to catch fire, trying to get Adam to focus on his words.  
  


Words that finally penetrated Adam’s hazy mind. He whined a bit but reluctantly uncrossed his ankles and moved his hands away and Ronan quickly moved to grab the lube. And lay down directly on top of him again, propped up on his left elbow. Adam gasped in relief and wrapped himself around Ronan quickly.  
  


“Why would I want to be anywhere else but here?” Ronan was saying, kissing Adam’s throat, his jaw, his cheek, as he poured the lube clumsily on his fingers single-handed. Adam was now thrusting his hips in small, delicious movements, happy to again be pinned down by Ronan's weight. It made him feel safe, comforted, enveloped. Adam was tall, so not many people made him feel small, but Ronan did. And Adam loved it.  
  


Ronan was still talking, though Adam could hardly make the words out over the sensations overwhelming him.  
  


“Why would I be doing anything else but this, Adam?” he whispered into Adam's good ear as he moved them a little on their side and circled Adam's hole wetly. Adam keened and bore down. He tried not to clench when Ronan moved a finger into him, but ended up clenching once Ronan's second finger was all the way in and Ronan found the spot that was still a relatively recent discovery. He gripped Ronan's fingers tightly within his body and…suddenly Ronan couldn't move his hand.

  
Ronan gritted his teeth, and did his smoker’s breath, forehead against Adam’s, "Christ, you're so goddamn - Adam, _fuck_ , just - let go. Let me fuck you. _Please_.”

  
Adam finally let go and lowered his tense hips and relaxed enough to allow Ronan to open him up. Then Ronan's thick long fingers were fucking into him hard and Adam began thrashing about, lost to anything but the lust pounding through his entire body. Wanting more, please, Ronan, Oh God, yes, there. And Ronan held him down even more as he whimpered and babbled and pleaded.  
  


Because he was bigger than Adam, Ronan took a long time to prep him to take his cock, the few times they'd done this (They’d only been doing this for a couple of weeks and Adam had been busy, as per usual. But they were trying their best to make up for lost time). So, he refused to be hurried opening Adam up, no matter how much Adam begged. Once Ronan entered him, though, Adam was always grateful for Ronan's single-minded thoroughness. Though nothing ever really prepared him for the life-changing girth of Ronan breaching him, the way Ronan completely filled his body, filled _him_ , when he was finally inside Adam, moving in him.  
  


Ronan lubed himself up and looked into Adam's lust-glazed eyes. Adam saw his lips move, saying I love you, as he entered Adam slowly. And Adam's wordless response was throwing his head back, with his mouth open. Because it was _too much_. It was _not enough_. It was going to make him whole. It was going to split him in half.  
  


And Adam needily dug his heels into Ronan's ass, trying to pull him in faster, and pushed his own hips down, greedily wanting more of Ronan in him. But Ronan was too strong, and too savvy, and took his exquisitely torturous time, allowing Adam to adjust to him. And then, after an eternity, Ronan was all the way inside and they both stopped, panting against each other’s mouths.

  
Adam began to swivel his hips impatiently, wiggling them against Ronan, just doing whatever his body told him to do in its mindless state, trying to get Ronan to move in him, please, please, Ronan. Then, then, finally, miraculously, Ronan began to fuck him.  
  


He dug his fingernails into Ronan's powerful shoulders as his back muscles worked, as he pushed into Adam again and again, slow and deep. And all Adam could say was Ronan. C'mon. C'mon. Please. Harder. _Ronan. Please_. Faster. OH! This was because Ronan had gotten onto his knees and lifted Adam’s hips onto his lap and then began to really fuck him, like Adam needed. Like he was desperate for. This was the first time they'd tried it in this position and - and, oh shit, holy shit. Every strong thrust of Ronan's amazing body was hitting Adam there, right there, yes, Ronan. Yes. Oh my god.  
  


“Fuck, _Adam_ , Adam, you're amazing.” Ronan was as lost in the madness as he was, but he moved his hand onto Adam and started to stroke him. He managed just once, twice and Adam said, surprising even himself, not even thinking of saying it, not even knowing he was going to say it, and saying it with an uncontrolled, stretched-out, breathy Henrietta accent, “Y'gonna fuck me like this when I'm all tied up, Lynch?”  
  


And Ronan came then, suddenly and uncontrollably, with a wild, animal shout, stilling his hips deep inside Adam and shuddering, hand helplessly spasming around Adam's cock. And Adam could feel Ronan's wet heat inside him as he felt his own wet heat outside him, as he came too, at the exact same time.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, when I read the "Forsan..." line in The Raven King and then there was Adam all blindfolded and trussed up, I was like: Holy shit. This is fic gold!  
> And then I looked and looked for a fic that was about all that kinky stuff, that to me was so obvious...and finally decided I needed to write one.  
> Sigh. Maybe it wasn't that obvious, or maybe my mind is just that dirty. Oh well, my mind's been called worse LOL. If you know of any fics that explore this, please rec them to me. Thanks!
> 
> Please kudos or comment if you liked it so far!


	4. Borden House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot (such as it is) thickens.  
> Talking about sex.  
> Then having some (slightly kinky) sex.

  
“Have you thought about what I asked you?”  
  
“What did you ask me, Parrish?”  
  
“Don't be a shit, Ronan. And anyway, if you don't wanna tell me, fine. I'm not the one with a list of fantasies.”  
  
“Fuck you. I'm also not the one with a list of fantasies - _written down_.”

“Look, I asked you to write them down so we'd save some time, okay? And so you wouldn't forget anything.”  
  
“I didn't tell you all that shit so you could set me _homework_ , you bastard. And you know that I never did any.”  
  
“Well, I figured it would be homework that you would be interested in, for a change.”  
  
“I know your sick mind, man. First you'll make me put my kinky sexual fantasies in writing, like some fucking _porn_ _mag_ letter column. But then you'll tell me to prioritize them and shit. It'll never end. Just like homework.”  
  
Adam was quiet because _, damn it_ , this was exactly what he had been planning to ask Ronan to do. Being knowable was a real pain sometimes.  
  
He now also wanted to ask when Ronan had ever read a porn magazine column, and what porn magazine that was. He had honestly never thought about gay porn - until now. Adam's mind began flashing with some - interesting - images.  
  
They were lying on the hood of Ronan's car, in a far field of the Barns, surrounded by dreamt balls of fire that brought out yellow-flickering hollows under cheekbones and eyes and jaws. The nights were still pretty chilly but they were both sick of constantly being indoors, so Ronan had dreamt up these Tiki Balls, as he called them, which would adjust their temperature as needed. A balmy breeze was blowing across their bodies.  
  
They were holding hands. Or rather, Ronan was holding Adam's hand, like he usually did, and was unthinkingly running his thumb across knuckles. Each sweep was sending warm thrills up Adam's skin. He still hadn't gotten used to being touched so much, so casually.  
  
“Anyway, I told you, we have loads of time. We don't have to talk about any of this stuff for years.”  
  
Adam said nothing.

The silence sounded oddly…disappointed.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Whatever,” said Adam, shrugging, feeling obscurely rejected.  
  
“What?” Ronan asked again as he turned on his side so he was facing Adam. He pulled his freckled hand up to his lips and kissed the still-tan skin with his warm mouth. “Wait. Did you - _want to_?”  
  
“Did I want to what?” mumbled Adam.  
  
“Did you really want to read it?”  
  
“I _asked_ you for it, shithead. Of course I want to read it.”  
  
“No, I mean, you didn't just ask - for _me_?”  
  
Adam's brow furrowed in confusion.  
  
“I mean, you didn't just ask because you thought that _I_ wanted to do...because I wanted those things?”  
  
“What, you thought I was humouring you?”  
  
“No. Yes. Maybe.”  
  
“Asshole.”  
  
“It's - shit - it's hard to write stuff like that down okay?”  
  
“D'you wanna just tell me then?”  
  
“That's even worse.”  
  
“ _Ronan_. God. Forget it.”  
  
They both were quiet for a moment. Then Ronan moved closer to Adam and began to stroke an apologetic hand up and down his arm.  
  
“Look, I literally didn't kiss anyone till my 18th birthday, okay. We can agree that I'm sexually repressed.”  
  
Adam snorted, rolling his eyes.  
  
“Well, I _was_ , at least.”  
  
At that Adam turned towards Ronan and pillowed his head on a bent elbow carefully, making sure he could still hear. “How come?”  
  
“How come what?”  
  
“How come you never kissed anyone till you were 18?”  
  
“You were the only person I ever wanted to kiss,” Ronan shrugged.  
  
“Really? You didn't know you were gay until me?”  
  
“The fuck? I was always gay.”  
  
“But how did you know, if you never wanted to kiss anyone?”

“I literally have no fucking clue what you’re asking.”

“I - shit - look, I only realized I was - I don’t know…bi, I suppose, because of you. Until then, I thought I was straight.”

“We both thought you were straight. Don’t remind me.”

“What about crushes? Did you have a crush on anyone else?”  
  
“Before you? No.”  
  
“Fuck." Adam ran a hand over his face. "I just - don't understand.”  
  
“Understand what?”  
  
“How you knew you were gay without...actually being attracted to someone. How you never had a crush till me. How you only wanted to kiss me. Like - your whole life!”  
  
“I knew I was gay like I knew I was a dreamer. I just knew, even when I didn't know what it was or what it meant. But I actually realized when Declan started fucking around and I knew there was no way I would be able to do that - with - them.”  
  
“Girls,” Adam's mouth quirked. “You can say the word you know.”  
  
“Also, I really didn't understand how Declan could - with so many different - _girls_ ,” Ronan finished, defiant.  
  
“Hmmm…”  
  
“What? You get it?”  
  
“Well, I'm not like that, but yeah, I get it. Like, I don't see anything wrong with it. It's not like he's cheating on someone. And maybe he doesn't even lead them on, y’know?”  
  
“He's a fucking liar.”  
  
“Which doesn't mean he leads them on,” countered Adam, reasonably. “Maybe everyone knows the rules of the game.”  
  
“I just - I can't imagine - changing your mind. Or - being attracted to different people each time.”  
  
“Hmmm…”  
  
“What? And stop saying hmmm like some moron. You got a perfect score on your SAT reading. So, you know more words than hmmm. Fucker.”  
  
“I think that's just you. I mean, about being attracted to only one person, I think that's how _you_ are. So it's hard for you to see it another way. You're not great at that, y’know.”  
  
“At what?” Ronan snarled savagely.  
  
“Just... seeing things from other perspectives,” Adam had never been fazed by Ronan's savage snarling.  
  
“You say that like it's a bad thing. _De gustibus non est disputandum_.”  
  
Adam laughed at the quote: In matters of taste, there can be no disputes.

“Well, not seeing other sides. It's - not good or bad. It's just...the way it is. The way you are. Maybe ‘cos you're a dreamer, y’know. You need to have like, imagination but also a...a clear vision. No room for other versions.”  
  
“That's not what you were gonna say,” Ronan said, eyes narrowed and piercing.  
  
“It's just that -" Adam paused, and then took the plunge, "have you seen any porn? Does it turn you on? What about Kavinsky?”  
  
“Yes to the porn. But I...it only worked if I - imagined it was you.”  
  
Adam's breath quickened.  
  
“And why are you asking about that piece of shit K right now?”  
  
“Did you - he was attracted to you, right?”  
  
“I don't know. Maybe.”  
  
“You were never - you never felt...?”  
  
“No. I realized later that maybe he was expecting - thinking - that...But maybe it was only ‘cos I was a dreamer too.”  
  
“Uh - no, Ronan. I'm pretty sure it wasn't _just_ because you were a dreamer too.”  
  
“I - ” Ronan stopped, following his finger down Adam's hoodie clad arm with his eyes and looking lost in thought. “Actually, I always knew I didn't like girls, but I didn't think, or allowed myself to...that I was gay until -”  
  
“Until - Kavinsky?”  
  
“Until I had this dream.”  
  
“About?”  
  
“About you and Kavinsky. Where you both touched my tattoo.”  
  
“So - if I hadn't been there, it might've been Kavinsky?”  
  
“No. I don't know. It wouldn't have been the same, anyway.”  
  
“In what way?”  
  
“It wouldn't have been this - like with you. It wouldn't have been - love.”  
  
Adam kissed him, then, hot and slow and sweet. Ronan moaned into his mouth as Adam pushed him on his back and moved a lean, firm thigh between his legs. And then started moving down his body.  
  
Ronan looked up at the unseen heavens and breathed out long, in relief and gratitude. And then breathed in quick, in arousal.  
  
And the Tiki Balls flared up and burned hotter, trying to keep bared skin warm.  
  


*  
  


“Here you go, shithead.”  
  
Ronan threw a piece of paper down at Adam, filled with his furious cursive.  
  
Adam looked at the words in astonishment for a second.  
  
 _Ligans manibus invicem_ (translation: tying hands together)  
 _  
Operculum oculi_ (eyes covered) _  
  
Vestium scholarium cum collum colligationem_ (school uniform with necktie)  
 _  
Intra et super vehiculum_ (in and on the vehicle) _  
_  
...the list went on.  
  
“You wrote it in _Latin_?” Adam gave a disbelieving laugh.  
  
“So you have to work at it too, you sadistic fucker.”  
  
“You're so - _extra_ ,” said Adam, shaking his head, smiling despite himself.  
  
“It's - it was easier to say in Latin. And no one will understand it if you leave it lying around.”  
  
“Sure, ‘cos that's a thing I'd do.”  
  
Adam knew there was more to it than that. Ronan didn't do things for no reason, though he liked to give that impression. Granted, sometimes he did things for stupid reasons, but this list was not one of them.  
  
It was a list for Adam's eyes only, in their shared, somewhat secret, language, about shared, secret topics. Adam's heart twisted a bit at the trust and intimacy of the gesture.  
  
They had first bonded over Latin after all, together, just the two of them. Without Gansey and Welsh kings in the picture. Adam remembered hours and evenings and weekends of Ronan helping him understand the basics (and doing a much better job of it than Whelk). It was a new language for him, coming from a public school curriculum, which Ronan teased him about mercilessly. But, for all that, Ronan was surprisingly generous with his time and patience, either with Adam or about Latin or both. It was the first sign Adam ever had that there was more to Ronan than was immediately obvious.  
  
“My uniform _and_ tie, huh? Subtle. But I guess that makes sense.”  
  
They had, for some reason, never fooled around in his uniform. Maybe because Adam was usually rushing to one of his jobs straight from school.  
  
“It's a pretty general list,” Adam said, when he finished reading it.  
  
“Yeah, well, _I want you to fuck me in the backseat of the Camaro_ loses something in the translation. Also, pretty sure there were no backseats in chariots when Latin was invented.”  
  
Adam snorted and then said, “Wait, the _Camaro_?”  
  
Ronan gave him a pointed look that said ‘Don't push it, Parrish.’  
  
“I just thought it would only be the BMW. Anyway, you didn't have to list _vehicles_ you know. It was a given. And we've already done stuff in your car.”

They _had_ made out in it - on it, against it - quite a bit  
  
“Not everything,” said Ronan, with a cut-glass smile.  
  


*  
  


It would be Valentine's Day soon and Adam was racking his brains about what to do about Ronan. He was pretty sure Ronan would just ignore it. They weren't the kind of couple that would celebrate it, or even anniversaries, maybe, Adam didn't think.  
  
Adam wasn't sure if that made him feel relieved or disappointed. They had been celebrating each other plenty, as often as they could, and Adam was pretty sure nothing much could top anything they'd been doing recently. But the competitive streak in him made him want to try.  
  
Also, it was their first Valentine's Day together and Adam didn't really want to let that pass without some kind of - gesture. It need not even be on February 14th. But it could be _for_ February 14th. Plus, it wasn't like Adam had much money. Anyway, what could you get someone who literally either had everything or could dream it up?

What would Ronan like, thought Adam, as he drove the Hondayota into the Aglionby grounds. He got out the books for his first class from his locker, still thinking about Ronan.  
  


*  
  


“Where are we going Parrish, and why the fuck are you wearing that ridiculous coat?” Ronan said, as Adam dragged him to the BMW late one February night.  
  
“I told you, it's a surprise. Just shut up and do as you're told,” Adam said, as he opened the passenger door for Ronan.

Though glaring at him, Ronan shut up and did as he was told. Adam filed that piece of information away for later and moved to the driver's side, surprised and a bit breathless with anticipation. Shit, he hoped tonight wasn't going to be a complete disaster.  
  
Adam was overwarm in the blast of the heater when he started the car, wrapped in a full-length woollen coat with a high collar that he had found in a cupboard at the Barns. It smelled faintly of lavender.  
  
Ronan watched Adam drive, watched his fingers on the wheel and on the gear shift. Adam could see out of the corner of his eye Ronan's intense focus on him and his hands, knowing it was turning Ronan on to see Adam drive his car. As he drove along the dark lanes of midnight Henrietta, he was glad he had cancelled his shifts for tomorrow, though he got paid the most for weekend work. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.  
  
Adam parked in a field within sight of a familiar building and cut the engine and the lights.  
  
“What the fuck? We're going to - look at - _Aglionby_?” Ronan said, voice surprised and a little...put off.  
  
“We're going to break into Aglionby,” Adam corrected and he smiled in relief at Ronan's delighted grin.  
  
“Aren't you worried about getting caught?”  
  
“We won't. And it doesn't matter, I already got into Harvard (he had heard back about his early decision before the New Year). Plus, I'm their top student. What're they going to do, expel me? Slap on a B&E charge just for coming into school after hours?”  
  
Ronan grabbed him across the central console and kissed him filthily. “Shit, Parrish. _Dulce periculum_.”

Danger is sweet.  
  
“Hopefully not. Did you bring the dream things?” Adam asked, as he got out and took a bag out of the backseat, slinging it over his shoulder.  
  
Adam had noted, for a whole week, as surreptitiously as he could, the presence of all the cameras on campus and in the buildings. And had realized that there was no way to avoid detection. So he'd asked Ronan to dream up a device that would make them somehow invisible, but told him not to ask why. They'd tested it on the old camera outside Monmouth and saw that the image turned to snow and white noise during the time they walked in front of it.  
  
So, armed with their Sneak Machine, as Ronan had named it, they scaled the walls into the grounds, hearts thrumming with adrenaline. Ronan may have caught a glimpse of what he wore beneath the coat when they climbed the wall, but the surprise was almost complete anyhow.  
  
They laughed like the boys they were as they chased each other, tried to trip each other up and jumped on each other's backs as they ran across the grounds.  
  
Adam led them to Borden House.  
  
“Open the door,” he said breathless with laughter and running, and looked around quickly. He could feel the excitement coming off Ronan in waves and he was just as giddily buzzing. Ronan took out the second device they'd created, one that could open any door without tripping alarms, which Ronan called the Thiefster.

It was so convenient to have one's own personal dreamer, Adam thought, a little wildly.  
  
“You're very useful sometimes,” he told Ronan with a fond but wicked grin and patted Ronan's cold scalp, just to piss him off as he kneeled near the keyhole.  
  
“Fuck you, Parrish.”  
  
Adam just dragged his fingernails along Ronan's scalp pointedly in response. He felt Ronan's breath hitch.  
  
The device against the door clicked and they walked into the relative warmth. The building was dark, eerie and silent, filled with the flickering shadows of leaves against moonlight. Ronan breathed out a long sigh. It had been months since he'd attended Aglionby. And he'd hated it while he was here, Adam knew. Had hardly attended classes.

Well, except one class.  
  
Adam took his cold hand and squeezed it as they walked slowly towards their Latin classroom.  
  
The room was dark and the sounds of them opening the door echoed, but their footsteps were muffled by the dark carpeting. The class was familiar to both of them, even in this light. Adam closed the door and flicked on the heat. He then turned to see that Ronan was looking at him, and Adam looked back. Just like they used to do when they had been students here together. This room, in a way, was where they had truly begun.  
  
Adam threw the bag down, took out no-heat dreamt lights bright enough to see by and put them around the room. He then slowly unbuttoned his coat. Underneath, he was dressed in his full Aglionby uniform, complete with tie.  
  
Ronan's eyes widened.  
  
Adam held his gaze as he walked towards Ronan, who was leaning against the teacher's desk.  
  
“What else is in the bag?” Ronan asked, trying to sound unconcerned, though he had to clear his throat after.

“Clothes - and food. I figured we'd be hungry after all the _sex_ ,” said Adam dirtily, as he pushed his hips against Ronan's and pinned him to the desk.

Ronan shoved his hands roughly into Adam's hair, pulled him closer and kissed him desperately.  
  
Adam put his hands behind Ronan's thighs and lifted, and Ronan sat up on the desk and spread his legs, making room for Adam. They were still kissing.

Ronan broke off and said, as if it had just penetrated his mind, “Clothes?”  
  
“Your Aglionby uniform.”  
  
“The fantasy was of _you_ in your uniform, Parrish, not me.”  
  
“I also packed your tennis clothes.”  
  
“Really? Me in my tennis outfit?”  
  
“God, yes. Your ass - and thighs - in those shorts. _Jesus_.”  
  
They kissed again, wet and hungry.

Ronan tore himself away and changed into his...Aglionby uniform. Adam had been wondering if he'd choose the tennis clothes, but it looked like he was sticking with his fantasy. Watching Ronan change was a great start to any fantasy, Adam thought, ogling his back muscles rippling under the tattoo.

“I didn't think you even liked me at that time,” Ronan was now saying, putting on his tie in swift, deft, precise movements, completing it carelessly but perfectly, despite not having a mirror. It was simply unbelievable, given how purposefully atrociously he'd always worn it when he was in school. Just because Ronan _didn’t_ do something, didn’t mean that he _couldn’t_ , Adam reminded himself.

Adam was senselessly turned on, just looking at his long nimble fingers work so competently. Maybe he was getting Ronan's hand kink. He already had an ass kink and a tattoo kink for Ronan. He didn’t think he could handle another.  
  
Adam dragged his mind back to the conversation and said, “I didn't think so either. Seeing you play would just piss me off and I wouldn't know why.”  
  
“That why you were so shitty to me whenever you and Gansey used to pick me up after?”  
  
“Yes.”

Adam pulled Ronan closer by his blazer collar when he was finally dressed.

“You drove me crazy for a long time, and it took me a longer time to realize why.”  
  
“You dumb fuck.”

“Fuck off. Well, we're in our uniforms. We're in our Latin classroom. What do you want to do now?”

"Shit, Adam,” Ronan said, suddenly unsure, breathing deep against Adam's forehead. “It's...I don't know. I can't think.”  
  
Adam laughed softly and stroked Ronan’s cheek.

“You're the one who had all these fantasies. Now you don't know what to do when they come true.”  
  
“They already came true,” Ronan said softly and meaningfully.

They looked into each other’s eyes for an endless moment, and Ronan leaned forward and kissed Adam gently.

Adam kissed him back, just as soft. He heard Ronan’s breaths turn to small gasps. Ronan was already coming undone and they hadn't even _started_ yet.  
  
“We don't have to do anything you know,” Adam said gently. “We can just, like, sit and eat. And talk. Or not.”  
  
“It's just - there were so many times I would be sitting here, watching you, imagining...”  
  
“What would you be imagining?” Adam said, making a decision and walking away.

He went and sat at his usual desk, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs wide. He knew Ronan could see his tented crotch from where he stood.

Adam spun a pencil in his fingers. Ronan must have spent hours in classrooms watching him do this very thing, Adam thought, looking at him with hooded eyes.  
  
Ronan looked at Adam's fingers and then at his face, suddenly sure again, expression predatory.  
  
“I would sit behind you and imagine... kissing the back of your ear. You have a freckle that would show just above your collar. I would imagine - licking it.”  
  
Adam closed his eyes for a brief second. “During class, with everyone watching?”  
  
“No, I'd make you stay back. Tell you your Latin needed work. Then - then I would lock the door.”  
  
Ronan locked the door and turned back and looked at Adam. And found that Adam was looking back at him. Like always.  
  
Ronan walked towards Adam, stalking him with his whole body, with his eyes, like Adam was prey. Adam's eyes widened and his heart rate ratcheted up. Ronan could look so...dangerous, sometimes. Adam had forgotten; had stopped seeing him that way. He really should remember this expression more.

God, he was so hot for him right now.  
  
Adam steeled himself as Ronan came up to him, but he simply walked past and sat down behind him. Adam turned to look at him and Ronan pressed his face forward with his fingers, making him face the front of the class.

Then he leaned across his desk and pushed his nose against the back of Adam's neck and breathed in, long and lusty.  
  
Adam's breath stuttered.  
  
Ronan hooked his fingers under Adam's jacket and shirt collars and pulled down, and licked the freckle in question, mouthed on the bony knob at the top of his spine and then bit it, harsh. Adam gasped loudly. Ronan moved to his left ear, and licked and sucked and pulled on the soft skin with his teeth, and then slid his tongue all the way in and flicked it wetly.

Adam moaned, throwing his head back.  
  
“Shit. _Ronan_.”  
  
“I would imagine your mouth saying my name just like that, with a moan,” Ronan whispered into his right ear. “I imagined your mouth saying my name in so many different ways, saying so many filthy things.”  
  
He went to kneel next to Adam and pulled him sideways on his chair so he was facing him.  
  
“Then - I'd imagine this.”  
  
Ronan put his palm on Adam's now fully erect dick, and stroked him through his trousers. He leaned forward and mouthed at the wet spot of precum and nuzzled Adam's crotch, rubbing his face against Adam's hardness.  
  
Adam's fingers caressed the back of Ronan's neck, as he gritted his teeth to keep from whining.  
  
He looked down at Ronan kneeling between his legs, needy and wanting, both of them dressed in Aglionby clothes, in an Aglionby classroom. All that time they were sitting in class, Ronan had been imagining this.

The thought was _incendiary_.  
  
Ronan looked up at Adam, through his dark lashes and said, "Then I’d say: I want to suck you off, Adam. And you would say: _Irrumabo te_."  
  
Adam's pupils blew fully apart. He made a low, dark sound deep in his throat and bit out, “ _Irrumabo te_.”  
  
Ronan closed his eyes for a moment, almost in prayer, and then pulled down Adam's zipper.  
  
Then Adam's dick was free and Ronan ran his nose and lips along its hot length in reverence, stroking and squeezing and scratching down Adam's half-naked thighs. Ronan put his lips around Adam's head with a moan that vibrated against his sensitive skin.

Adam’s hips bucked up involuntarily, but Ronan didn't hold him down.

Well, he did say he wanted me to fuck his face, thought Adam, starting to go a little crazy with the idea. He took a deep breath and held on firmly to the back of Ronan's beautifully shaped skull.  
  
Then Ronan took Adam completely into his hollowed mouth and started sucking him off, looking up at him the whole time and keeping his hands on Adam's waist.  
  
Adam looked at Ronan's pink lips stretched around his cock and felt his tongue flick along the underside and then lost it.

He lifted his hips off the chair a little and thrust them into Ronan's face. For the first time ever, he felt the back of Ronan's throat for a moment and Ronan gagged.

Adam came back to his senses, ashamed even though Ronan had literally asked for it, and tried to pull back.

But Ronan made an irritated sound that vibrated around Adam brilliantly, bringing his wonderful eyebrows together in a frown as he glared up at Adam. Then he held onto his hips more firmly and pushed Adam’s cock back into his mouth as far as it would go, breathing out through his nose and relaxing his throat.  
  
And Adam stopped fighting it.

 _Ronan, c'mon, shit, yes, just like that, God your mouth, Jesus fucking Christ._ Adam's lips spewed obscenities, hips completely separated from his brain, as he just fucked hard into Ronan's mouth.

They were both only hungry animals now, chasing sensations, lost in a haze of mindless lust.  
  
All too quickly, Adam was breathlessly patting his head in warning.

But Ronan only pulled him in deeper.

_Fuck._

" _Ro-nan_.”

Ronan moaned around his cock, as if _he_ was the one close to orgasm.

Adam completely let go of sanity and dug the nails of both hands into Ronan's scalp. He held Ronan's nose to his groin and came hard into his mouth, back and hips arched tightly, shouting out at a volume he had never used in Aglionby before.

Just before the last wet pulse, Ronan pulled him out of his mouth and made Adam finish on his face.

As Adam looked at him and collapsed back into his chair panting, he saw Ronan's pink tongue lick at Adam's cum around his lips.

If Adam could've come again right then, he would've.  
  
  


It took Adam a few moments to recollect himself and where they were.

He looked down, saw Ronan was jacking himself off, and knelt down next to him. He pushed Ronan's hand away and grasped his cock himself.

Ronan looked down at Adam's hand around him, at Adam's own spent cock still out between his Aglionby trousered-thighs and started moaning desperately.   
  
Adam looked at Ronan, as Ronan was looking down at their joined skin and thrusting his hips up jerkily into Adam's hand.

He put a finger under Ronan's chin and turned it gently.  
  
Ronan looked up at him then, a helpless look on his face, and breathed "Adam" in desperation. Adam saw that his clear, blue eyes were dark with some unbearable expression, needing something, needing _more_.

What that something was, Ronan himself probably didn't know, but Adam had to figure it out – soon. Had to give Ronan what he wanted, what he _needed_.  
  
Adam speeded up his hand in response and Ronan’s moans hit a higher pitch.

Then he saw a dribble of his own cum running down Ronan's chin. He dragged his fingers along the sticky whiteness on one cheek and then moved his hand to Ronan's lips.

And pushed three fingers roughly into Ronan's open, panting mouth, as far as they would go.

As Ronan's suckled on his knuckles and moaned around them desperately, breathing noisily through his nose, he was still looking at Adam.

Pleading for something.

  
Adam looked steadily back at Ronan for a minute and then simply said…

“Come.”

  
  
As if he was just waiting for that permission, Ronan rolled his eyes back into his head and immediately came and came and came, lost between Adam's fingers pressing down on his tongue, muffling his loud, long cries, and Adam's fingers around his cock, stroking him relentlessly.  
  


*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter now has gorgeous fanart - [irrumabo te](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682967) by the always wonderful [sneakygeit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneakygeit/pseuds/sneakygeit). Please go admire it!
> 
> In case you’re wondering why Adam was asking about crushes and porn and Kavinsky (and Ronan being his smart self picked up on it: “That's not what you were gonna say.”), it was because he was wondering if Ronan was demi-sexual. ‘Cos in my headcanons – and in my very first fic – Adam does a lot of research on the sexuality spectrum. And it's something I tend to wonder about Ronan too, actually. 
> 
> Irrumabo (te): 'I will face-fuck you' - adapted from Catullus, Carmen 16, first AND last line – I’m guessing because he really wanted to drive the point home. 
> 
>   
> I did my best with the translations. If I got any of it wrong, please holler.


	5. Adam felt a little hysterical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slightly kinky sex ahead. 
> 
> TW for under-negotiated stuff but it's relatively harmless.
> 
> But there's also a lot of love. And some laughs. ‘Cos it's Pynch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Latin translations at the end.

They were lying on the floor of the Latin classroom, on Adam's coat, having just had something to eat. Because, yes, the sex had made them hungry.  
  
Adam had first pulled out some wet-wipes and cleaned Ronan up. Ronan had still been shivering slightly with the aftershocks. He was unusually listless. Adam was a bit worried, but he'd done what he could, had made sure he had some Gatorade and food, had taken off their blazers. He then turned up the heat, covered Ronan with a blanket he had brought and lay down beside him.  
  
He wrapped his arms around Ronan and held him as tightly as he could. Ronan burrowed his face into Adam's chest hard, breaths still trembling. Adam pushed a thigh between Ronan's legs and pulled him almost half on top of him, trying to soothe him, ground him, keep him in his body, make him feel comforted.  
  
Adam ran a hand up and down his back and stroked his other hand over Ronan's head and neck, firm and reassuring. He kept his mouth against Ronan's scalp and just breathed with him, until Ronan began to relax and then, unexpectedly, fell asleep.  
  
As Adam continued to hold him tightly, he couldn't help thinking ( _of course you can't help thinking_ \- Adam rolled his eyes internally at himself) about everything that had just happened. Something had definitely been different this time, during sex.  
  
Firstly, Ronan seemed like he had - crashed, after. For someone who could have sex multiple times in the span of a few hours, Ronan acting like this after just one handjob was really... weird. Adam hoped he was okay. Maybe he was coming down with something?  
  
Then there was the way Ronan had behaved at the end. Adam remembered the unspoken pleading in Ronan's eyes, wanting something, waiting for - something. For - Adam to let him come?  
  
Adam was aware that, at different times and in different ways, he and Ronan could both be desperate during sex. Wanting and needy. Unable to wait. Unable to stand it. And it was more than just teenage horniness.  
  
For Adam, part of it was being touch-starved and part of it was just the wanting, the needing that was so coded into his psyche. Need had always been his baseline. Another part was just his unending lust for Ronan.  
  
For Ronan, it was about loving and yearning for Adam for so long, so hopelessly (as he thought) and then unexpectedly, getting him. A big part of Ronan still couldn't believe that it was true, that it had happened. That he _had_ Adam, that Adam wasn't going anywhere. Or, at least, that Adam would come back.

Adam understood the ever-present subconscious fear Ronan had that yet another person he'd given his heart to, himself to, loved completely, might leave him. Leave him to be alone. Lonesome.  
  
But it was more than that tonight, with Ronan. It was almost like Ronan had wanted Adam to - take charge? Adam didn't even know if it had been a conscious thing. Ronan seemed to be operating on an instinct he was unaware of.  
  
He had said that he had fantasized about Adam - _controlling_ him.  
  
Who would have ever imagined that Ronan of all people would want to be told what to do? During sex, too. Even if it was just sometimes. Even if it was just the rare exception rather than the rule. It was a bit...ridiculous, when he thought about it - knowing Ronan.

 _Ronan_ , who was so contrary and rebellious. Who never did anything you told him to do. Especially _because_ you told him to do it. If it was better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission, Ronan Lynch asked for neither.  
  
And he definitely didn't listen to anyone.  
  
But that's not true, Adam thought. Ronan listened to Gansey, sometimes. Adam had always been astonished when that happened. Adam remembered Ronan kicking the tomb and Gansey telling him off; Ronan returning to Aglionby just because Gansey wanted it; Ronan stopping slashing someone open with his words just because Gansey would say 'Ronan' in that _tone_ (and Ronan's reaction to _Declan_ using the same tone couldn't be more different).  
  
Well, they all listened to Gansey didn't they?  
  
It was respect. It was friendship. It was love. It was his leadership.

For Ronan, it was definitely all of that, with Gansey.  
  
But now, maybe Ronan listened to Adam too? Because now Ronan loved Adam, but in a different way to Gansey?

Adam hadn't really paid attention to it till now. But Ronan did listen to him; at unexpected times too -usually when Adam was serious, was not fucking around. Like today, when he told him to shut up and get in the car. Like tonight, when he'd wanted - permission to orgasm? Was that what had happened?  
  
Adam thought about all the things on Ronan’s ‘list’. Most of it was actions or situations. Ronan didn’t use the word control. But he did say tying hands and blindfolding eyes. That would definitely be about control. But he didn’t specify if that was for Adam or for himself.

Adam tried to imagine both of them in the same situation: with the other tied and blindfolded. How would they react when they were in charge?

Very differently, Adam thought.

With Ronan, it wouldn't exactly be that Adam was at his mercy. It wouldn't be about the power. It would be about the kinkiness. The extremeness. The sensations. It would be about driving Adam as crazy as possible.  
  
Ronan would get off on getting Adam off.  
  
But for Adam, it definitely _would_ be about the power. Having Ronan helpless. Obedient. In Adam's control. Adam being in charge.  
  
He would get off on allowing - or not allowing - Ronan to get off.  
  
It would still be about Ronan, though. About giving him the extreme sensations that he'd always chased. And giving him permission (and withholding it) if that's what he wanted from Adam. If that's what got him off.

What about being the one tied up? Would Ronan like it? Would Adam like it? Would he like to give up control? Adam didn't know.

He suspected it was one of those things you couldn't predict until it was actually happening to you. And maybe it depended on who you were doing it with. Well, in his case, it was Ronan. And that meant everything. Ronan would take care of him completely. He would take care of Ronan too. They were safe with each other.  
  
Adam was definitely getting more curious now.

How would Ronan react, if Adam pushed the envelope a bit?

If Adam actually did some of the things Ronan had said turned him on?

He needed to talk to Ronan more. Get some more details. Maybe they should properly decide to try some of those things together.  
  
But he was getting a clearer picture about what Ronan had been trying to explain to him the other day.

Adam was getting closer to understanding it.

  
  
*

  
  
Ronan was waking up. And he didn't seem to have dreamt anything.  
  
“Hey,” Adam said softly, kissing his cheek.  
  
Ronan looked up at him.  
  
“Hey,” he said in a sleep and sex roughened voice. “I fell asleep.”  
  
“Yeah. You seemed pretty out of it.”  
  
“Shit, yeah,” Ronan rubbed a hand down his face.  
  
“What happened?”  
  
Ronan put his face back in the crook of Adam's neck and breathed out long.  
  
“It was just...I don’t know. It was too much.”  
  
“Which part? The uniform, the classroom?”  
  
“And you, here. It was - for a moment I didn't know if I was awake or dreaming or day dreaming. That really shook me.”  
  
“Yeah. Are you okay now, though?”  
  
“Why? What’d I do?”  
  
“Nothing. That's the point. You were - it was like you were in shock, or something.”  
  
“Yeah. It felt a bit like - like a low.”  
  
“Feeling better now?”  
  
“Yeah. I'm fine. I could eat though. First I need to take a piss.”  
  
Adam threw him the open bag full of snacks when he came back. He had folded up the coat and collected all the dream lights.  
  
“What the fuck…?” Ronan asked in surprise.

“What? I thought we were going home,” said Adam, equally surprised.  
  
“Why the fuck would we go home?”  
  
“’Cos you - crashed?”  
  
“And then I said I was fine.”  
  
“So, now you're suddenly ready for Round 2?”  
  
“Yeah,” Ronan lifted an eyebrow, “Aren't you?”  
  
“I think we should go home.”  
  
Ronan came over to him and took his face in his hands.  
  
“I'm fine, okay? I'm not gonna lie to you, you know that. What's this really about?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“Did I freak you out?”  
  
“A little,” Adam mumbled against Ronan’s palm, pressing a kiss on it.  
  
Ronan said, “We don't have to do anything, okay? But, can I just kiss y...”  
  
Before he could finish Adam had yanked him forward by his tie and captured his lips with a hot, desperate mouth. Ronan moaned in satisfaction and lifted him off the ground. Adam's legs crossed around his ass as Ronan hoisted him up and pushed him hard against the classroom wall.  
  
Their kiss caught fire, like always. Ronan pushed into Adam's mouth, claiming it, owing it. And Adam caught Ronan's bottom lip between his teeth and bit it hard, until the skin almost broke. Ronan keened, arching his hips further into Adam's, pressing his growing length against him.  
  
Adam gasped and broke away.  
  
“Wait. You really want to go again?”  
  
“Yes, Parrish, for fuck's sake. The only reason we're going to stop is if you want to, okay? So do you want to?” Ronan looked him in the eye.  
  
In reply, Adam leaned forward and pushed his tongue into Ronan's mouth. Ronan sucked on it as Adam moaned. They were grinding hard against each other now.  
  
“What do you want?” Adam gasped out.  
  
“I want you to fuck me on the teacher's desk.”  
  
Adam laughed. “God. Yes.”  
  
Ronan moved them away from the wall and walked to the desk with Adam still wrapped around him, not showing the slightest strain or even breathing hard.  
  
“Shit. You're so strong. You _asshole_ ,” Adam gritted out.  
  
“This turning you on, Parrish?”  
  
“Fuck, yes.”  
  
“We'll do it this way next time,” he said, smirking, and putting Adam down on the desk.  
  
“I think we're in the wrong position for this,” Adam laughed, resting his forehead against Ronan's shoulders. “Let me go get the stuff.”  
  
Adam moved to the bag, and came back with lube and a couple of condoms.  
  
“Shit. NO!” said Ronan, loudly, groaning and kicking at the desk for good measure.  
  
“Don't be a baby. I don't want to clean jizz off the table or the carpet.”  
  
“This was never part of the fantasy, man. You're ruining my fantasy. I hope you know that. After all the work we put in.”  
  
“Look drama queen, we can do it my way or we can go back home and then do it your way. Choose.”  
  
Ronan huffed and moved to the desk and got up on it.  
  
“No,” said Adam, clearly. “Stand up and turn around. And take your pants off.”  
  
Ronan's breath hitched. He looked at Adam. Adam looked back meaningfully.  
  
Ronan quickly stripped his lower half and turned around, splaying his arms on the desk. He arched his lower back, and wiggled his ass enticingly  
  
Adam huffed out an amused laugh.  
  
He grabbed Ronan's ass roughly and smacked it gently from the bottom, loving how it jiggled. Seeing Ronan like this, presenting himself, was the lewdest turn on.  
  
Adam began to bite at the ends of the tattoo. Then took a mouthful of Ronan's soft ass and bit it hard. Ronan moaned and pushed back into his face. Adam admired how the red teeth marks stood out against his skin.

He put his face between Ronan's cheeks and nuzzled, shaking his head from side to side.

Ronan groaned " _Adam"_ long and low.

Then Adam pulled apart his ass cheeks and laid a loud, smacking kiss on his hole.

Ronan jumped and gave a small yelp. “Jesus!” he huffed.  
  
“What?” said Adam, grinning, “I love your sweet ( _kiss_ ) sweet ( _smack_ ) ass.”  
  
They were both laughing now.  
  
Then Adam pushed his tongue right in and suddenly no one was laughing any more.  
  
He'd only done this once before but he had such a thing for Ronan's ass that he would never get enough of it. Ronan seemed pretty happy with it too, judging from his gasped curses.  
  
When spit was running down Ronan's thighs, he added two lubed up digits. As always, when Ronan felt his calloused fingers inside him, he lost all control and could barely hold himself up on his legs, moaning pleadingly. Especially when Adam found, and mercilessly targeted, his prostate.  
  
Adam pulled away and put a condom on himself and one on Ronan too, who huffed petulantly and looked back at him, his cheek on the desk.  
  
Adam ignored him and lubed himself up. He pulled Ronan's ass back and thrust into him in one strong movement; Ronan arched his back and cried out loudly. Adam set up a savage pace, crashing into Ronan's tightness as hard as he could. Ronan's hands were clenched around the edges of the desk, as it moved noisily with Adam's thrusts.  
  
They'd both already come once, so they could take their time now.  
  
“Adam, _Adam_ ,” Ronan was saying his name like a litany. Adam could guess what he was thinking. Though Adam could see Ronan in all his glory, back tattoo beginning to stick to his school shirt with sweat, Ronan could mostly see the classroom.  
  
He was looking at the familiar desks and chairs and notice boards where he’d studied Latin for years, and he was now getting fucked at the teacher's table by Adam. It was probably pretty surreal, especially if Ronan had spent time fantasizing about this as well.  
  
“Did you imagine this?” Adam breathed into his ear. “Was it one of your fantasies?”  
  
It hadn't been on Ronan's list. This night had been Adam's idea entirely.  
  
Ronan gasped out, “Yes.”  
  
“What else did you fantasize about?” Adam asked, so completely turned on it was turning his brain to mush.

“Fuck. So many things. Everything.”  
  
“Tell me.”  
  
“You fucking me on the desk. Me fucking you. Me riding you on your chair.”  
  
Adam stopped, then pulled out of Ronan.  
  
“What?” said Ronan, still bent over the desk.  
  
“Turn around and lie down,” said Adam.  
  
Ronan lay with his back on the desk. Adam pushed back into him smoothly, as they both gasped. Adam loved it when Ronan was all open and ready for him. Though he also loved it when Ronan was tight and unused. He just loved fucking any version of Ronan basically.  
  
As he used all his strength and pulled Ronan's hips up, off the table, Ronan's cries hit a new pitch as Adam hit that sweet spot inside him over and over again.  
  
Adam pulled out of him again, panting.  
  
“What the _fuck_ , Adam?” Ronan groaned in annoyance.  
  
“Might as well cover all the scenarios we can,” said Adam, as he walked to his own desk and sat down on his chair. He patted his thigh invitingly.  
  
Ronan got off the desk with a groan and walked slowly towards Adam.

“You lying little shit,” Ronan said, smirking, watching Adam catch his breath. “You were just getting tired.”  
  
“And you're getting your fantasy, so shut up, you heavy fucker.”  
  
Ronan smirked and straddled the chair and slid back onto Adam's cock.  
  
“Holy fuck, Ronan,” Adam gasped as Ronan started swivelling his hips sinuously.  
  
Ronan bent down and they kissed, sweetly, for all that Ronan was riding Adam's cock in the sexiest way imaginable. Ronan leaned back, hands on Adam's thighs and continued to fuck himself. Then he got up and turned around and lowered himself once more.  
  
“Shit,” Adam said, watching as Ronan put most of his weight on his marvellous arms, muscles and tendons standing out, pressing his hands onto the chair's edge, between Adam's open thighs. He began to move again, ass out, controlled and erotic.  
  
Adam was losing his mind rapidly. And he could see the milky outline of the tattoo through the material of Ronan's school shirt.  
  
“Wait,” said Adam. “Take off your shirt.” The rest of Ronan was already bare.  
  
“ _You_ take off my shirt,” said Ronan, irritated and not pausing in his rhythm. “I'm in the middle of something here.”  
  
“Jesus” Adam put his arms around Ronan and loosened his tie and took it off, then unbuttoned his shirt all the way. “Let go for a minute.”  
  
Ronan tsked and straightened and put all his weight down on Adam's lap, peevishly.  
  
“Oof. You _fucker_ ,” Adam gasped out, and pulled the shirt down his back till his wrists, where the cuffs caught.  
  
Getting an idea, Adam twisted the shirt around Ronan's leather bands and tied it off tightly.  
  
“You should've taken your shirt off when I told you,” he whispered in Ronan's ear, “Now, let's try it again without hands." He knew he sounded a little triumphant, and he bit down hard on the black ink between Ronan's shoulders.  
  
Ronan was gasping suddenly, and Adam knew...it was because this was the first thing on his list.  
  
“ _Ligans manibus invicem_ ,” Adam said softly, as he jerked Ronan's tied hands to emphasize the point.  
  
Ronan turned and looked down at him, eyes wide and face flushed.  
  
“Is this okay?” Adam said, suddenly concerned.

Still facing him, Ronan closed his eyes, as if in prayer. He nodded.

“Adam,” he whispered.

It was a prayer. That _was_ the prayer.  
  
Adam leaned upwards and kissed Ronan, soft and sweet, like a promise.  
  
“I got you,” he said.

He looked for a long moment at Ronan's back muscles forced to bunch around his tied arms, the tattoo making new and tantalizing shapes. He took hold of Ronan's waist with one hand and put the other hand on his shoulder and held on. Then he began to fuck up into Ronan. Ronan met him halfway and they found a sweet, intoxicating rhythm. Both their legs and thighs strained and trembled.  
  
Ronan's hands scrabbled in vain behind him, as he tried to find purchase, as he tried to touch Adam properly. He made a continuous desperate noise. Adam knew that not being able to use his hands must be both a turn on and a frustration at the same time. Sweat was running down both their bodies in the over-hot room.  
  
Adam then finally, finally, wrapped his hand firmly around Ronan, who shouted out in relief and tension.  
  
They came, long and loud, one after the other, uncontrollable shouts echoing through the building.  
  
God. Adam rested his head on Ronan's back, mouth open and panting against damp-dewed skin. That had been... _intense_.

Ronan had come almost as soon as Adam had touched him. And Adam had been so keyed up, he'd come too.  
  
“Adam, I can't move,” said Ronan quietly, head down.  
  
“Shit, sorry,” Adam said, repentant, quickly undoing the shirt and almost ripping off the cuff buttons in his haste.  
  
“You were amazing. You were so perfect. You're so beautiful, Ronan,” he kept saying between kisses on his back and shoulders, now that he could make words again. He finally took off the shirt that was now twisted beyond recognition. It was a good thing Ronan didn't need his uniform anymore.  
  
“Not that, Adam,” Ronan turned his head around. “I...can't _get up_. My legs won't work.”  
  
Adam and he looked at each other for a moment and both started laughing helplessly, like they were a little high. Which they probably were.  
  
“Oh my God. Wait, _wait_ ,” said Adam as he tried to figure it out, tears in his eyes. “Let's get on the floor first.”

Adam held Ronan tightly against his chest and gritted his teeth against his own over-sensitivity. He made them both slide onto the floor on their knees and Ronan almost collapsed. Adam braced a hand on the dark blue carpet and maneuvered them so they were lying on their sides.  
  
Adam pulled out in relief. They lay pressed against each other for a while.  
  
Then Adam steeled himself and got up, leaving a soft kiss on Ronan's shoulder. He took off the now quite messy condom and went to get some wet wipes.  
  
He kneeled near Ronan and realized that Ronan's condom wasn't on him.  
  
“Where the fuck's your condom?” he asked Ronan.  
  
“Who gives a shit?” Ronan mumbled, half asleep.  
  
He let it go and focused on Ronan. He kissed him softly, which Ronan returned a bit fuzzily, and then he kept kissing all over his naked body as he moved to clean him up.  
  
He made sure they both had some more Gatorade and food. Adam had a protein bar, because this had seriously been an intense workout. There'd be hell to pay later.

Ronan thought protein bars tasted like ass, or rather, worse than ass, so Adam fed him some dark chocolate, while lying in front of him. He had covered Ronan with the blanket again. They were both in serious need of a shower.  
  
When they finally got up to get dressed, Adam found that the condom had been under Ronan the whole time. It was flat and empty, sitting in the middle of a dark patch.

So much for not cleaning jizz out of the carpet, Adam thought, sighing.

He tidied up the whole room as best he could.  
  
Ronan cracked a window because:

"Smells like your balls in here, Parrish."

"Fuck you, Lynch. It smells like your stupid jizz. What kind of moron doesn't know how to remove a condom properly?"

"Obviously you fucked my brains out."  
  
They grinned like idiots at that, stopping by the door. They wrapped their arms around each other contentedly and kissed for a long time against the doorframe, soft and loving and flying in afterglow.  
  
“I love you,” Adam said to Ronan, between kisses. “I love you so much. So much.”  
  
“ _Meus fidus amor._ ”  
  
“From Ovid?”  
  
“Kinda.”  
  
“Let’s go.”  
  
“Shit, wait,” Ronan dashed off, grabbed a book and returned.  
  
“I've always wanted to read it.”  
  
“So, what, you're going to steal this?”  
  
“No, you shithead.” Ronan looked offended. “I'm going to dream a copy and then have you put this back.”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“ _de Amicitia_.”

  
*

  
  
Their trek back was nothing like the first time and climbing back up the walls was infinitely more painful. They were driving back in contented silence, when Adam suddenly groaned out, “Shit. I left the heat on!”  
  
When they got home, Adam drew a hot bath for them, made Ronan get in despite his protests and held him tightly in his arms as he promptly fell asleep, leaning back against Adam's chest.  
  
The next day, they were both in excruciating pain. Adam almost threw the Advil bottle at Ronan's head after he’d gotten on his last nerve, in the way that only Ronan could.  
  
Ronan and he lay naked in bed that night, still-sore legs tangled together. Adam’s good ear was listening to the toe-curling bass of Ronan’s baritone through his chest, as Ronan read Cicero to him till he fell asleep.

Adam returned to St. Agnes with Ronan the next morning, said a tired hi to the Lynch brothers and trudged up the stairs, in even more pain today if that was possible. He tried to squeeze in some homework before his shift at Boyd's.  
  
They hadn't talked about the other night yet. It could wait. Actually, now they were back in the real world, it seemed like that whole thing had happened in…some alternate dimension. To some _other_ Adam and Ronan. But Adam still needed to bring it up at some point. Because Ronan never would.

  
  
*

First period Monday was Latin. He was early, as usual.

There was going to be a fallout that he had not anticipated, Adam realized, as soon as he entered the classroom.  
  
Because, the first thing he saw staring right at him was the wall against which Ronan had lifted him up and kissed him. Adam ignored it. He put the book back on the shelf.

He then saw the place he had laid down his coat and held Ronan as he shivered. And ignored it.  
  
He went and sat in his usual chair (this _chair_ , Oh. My. Fucking. God…he was going to _die_ _right now_ ), and tried to ignore that too. He took out his books and opened his notes to third declension adjectives, which usually needed all his concentration. He suddenly felt Ronan's phantom breath and lips on his neck and shivered.  
  
And then he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the slightly stained patch on the dark blue carpet. And looked up and saw the teacher's desk. And then saw the door that Ronan had locked. He groaned loudly and gently hit his head repeatedly on his desk, trying to shake the images out. And control his body’s reaction to them.  
  
He had _months_ of Latin classes left. What the _hell_ had he been thinking?

Very soon this class would be full of students, and a teacher. A teacher who would stand or sit at the desk…the desk that he and Ronan had…

Fuck, fuck, _fuuuuck_.

He was so completely _fucked._

Adam ran as fast as he could to find an empty stall in the nearest bathroom.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Latin Translations:
> 
> Meus fidus amor: ‘my true love’ (adapted from denique, fidus amor: ‘finally, true love’, in Ovid, Epistle 2) 
> 
> Ligans manibus invicem: Roughly translates to ‘Tying hands together’
> 
> If I’ve made a mistake here, please let me know. Thanks. 
> 
> *
> 
> 1\. There’s a (book) Malec reference in this chapter.  
> 2\. I will neither confirm nor deny that there is an Easter Egg that points to this fic’s plot  
> 3\. Ronan experienced some form of PCD/PCT (I can’t be arsed to put down the full form) which is basically a low after sex. Sub-drop could be considered a more potent version of it (maybe Ronan had that instead?).  
> 4\. Updates will be less frequent. I need some work-life-smut balance. *rolls eyes*  
> 5\. Until then, hit me up with HCs for this fic and Asks on my fandom Tumblr - creativefiend19.tumblr.com  
> 6\. Kudos and comments are just yummmm. They keep me writing. Thanks to all those who supported this fic.


	6. A reasonable magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long intense chapter ahoy!
> 
> To recap, this fic is talky, smutty, fluffy, angsty and kinky. This chapter is all of that, plus über heavy and serious in parts.
> 
> TW: A panic attack, talk about canon-typical abuse and other referenced abuse, including during a teen pregnancy (yeah. sorry. but it's not graphic at all, if that helps). 
> 
> CW: This chapter contains a really frank talk about issues with having kids.  
> The talk is sandwiched between asterisks. And there’s a bit more in the last few paragraphs, after 'Adam lay back down...' (In case you want to avoid it, if this is a sensitive topic.)
> 
> Tags have been updated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opinions expressed in this chapter are not necessarily mine, and I recognize that they might not be many people's.

“Ronan,” Adam’s voice was somewhere between warning and exasperation, which was pretty par for the course when it came to dealing with Ronan on most days. Or most minutes.

“Why the fuck do you need to buy razors?” Ronan picked up the pack from the shopping cart, looked at it with arrogant contempt and threw it back on the shelf. Or somewhere in the vicinity of a shelf. It was doubtful how well he could aim over his shoulder.

“Just...stop it, Ronan,” Adam clenched out, putting another pack of razors into the cart, “God, I can’t take you anywhere. I need razors, you fucking idiot. So do you, not that you use one much.”

“Stubble burn on your ass again, Parrish?” Ronan grinned evilly, “Maybe I should stop eating you out so much.”

Adam blushed radiantly under his freckled tan, painfully aware of the narrow aisles of the small-town store, and deep, uncaring baritone of his tall, savagely handsome boyfriend. Dammit, it wasn’t fair that Ronan looked good enough to eat himself, even under the unflattering fluorescent strip lighting.

“Shut the fuck up, Lynch, and keep your goddamned voice down,” he hissed, not that it would make much difference, he knew from experience.

“Just - let me dream you razors,” Ronan said, in a slightly different, though no less loud, voice, “They’ll stay sharp forever.”

“I said shut the fuck up, Ronan! Someone will hear you,” Adam said, brow furrowed with irritation. “And you’re not some genie who can get me everything I want for free, okay? Especially with…” he lowered his voice self-consciously, “with Cabeswater gone. Don’t over-tax the ley line because you want to save me a few dollars.”

“Adam.”

“Stop it. We’re not going to have this conversation every time I need to shop for things,” Adam said, as they rolled the cart to the single cashier.

It was a charming, old-fashioned shop on the main street, not even worthy of being called a supermarket, and Adam was sure that when he returned from Harvard in a few years, it would be gone. Nudged out of business by some big, soulless, nationwide chain. Oh well, at least he and Ronan could have their weekly shopping arguments more privately in a larger space.

“Then stop taking me shopping with you,” Ronan said, putting his unerring tongue on the point, and calling Adam's bluff.

Adam hardly got much personal time during the week. So, he did everything he needed to do on weekends, chore-wise, and with Ronan in tow whenever possible. So he could spend more time with Ronan as well. Even if Ronan regularly drove him crazy, he’d rather be fighting with Ronan than not be with him. God, he was such a fucking sap.

And he was getting more and more comfortable with people seeing him in the BMW, with Ronan, around town.

Adam's mind quickly flashed to how he hoped people didn’t see him with Ronan in the BMW _outside_ of town.

With Opal at the Barns on most days, it was difficult for them to have the kind of loud (and extended) sex they tended to have, so going on long ‘drives’ (and parking in remote fields) had become their best chance of getting any privacy, even if it wasn’t the most comfortable. Though it turned Ronan on no end, because - cars, which was just fine with Adam.

With evening and morning services, not to mention being above a working office at Ronan’s church, Adam’s St. Agnes room wasn’t always the best place for their particular brand of debauchery.

But today was a Saturday. And all bets were off on weekends at the Barns. Adam felt his pulse quickening at the thought of how he and Ronan were going to spend the rest of this spring evening and the night (though he had an early morning shift at the factory, so it couldn’t be a very late night).

His fingers sought out Ronan’s below the counter, and he smiled inwardly at his hitched breath. He would never understand how something as simple as holding hands could work Ronan up so much, even with Ronan’s fixation with that part of him. Then he felt Ronan's thumb draw firm circles on the inside of his palm and press a nail in, hard and pointedly, and it was his turn to catch his breath. Maybe holding hands could be a turn on after all.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Adam said, all honeyed politeness, as he paid the lady with carefully counted cash.

She smiled at him with genuine warmth but her smile faltered as she took in Ronan’s hooded gaze. Adam didn’t blame her, even if he didn’t exactly agree.

With his black leather jacket and combat boots, not to mention tattoo and shaved head, Ronan looked like he would be burning the store down as soon as it had served his purpose. But Ronan was less larceny and more old lace, when you got to know him. _Fuck_. Adam refused to think any more of Ronan and _lace_ in the same sentence, especially in public.

As they moved to the door, Adam automatically held it open for a very pregnant young woman, when he suddenly recognized her.

" _Lucy_?"

"Adam?"

She froze in the doorway. Her brown eyes grew round, flitting between him and Ronan. She looked like she was afraid to look at Ronan but couldn't help herself. Adam understood, yet again, how that felt.

"Hi Lucy. Umm. How's it going?"

He couldn't help looking down at her very large stomach. It drew Adam's gaze just like Ronan seemed to be drawing hers, and he couldn't think of anything to say. Should he acknowledge her pregnancy? Should he ignore it and wait for her to bring it up? How old was she - just about sixteen, maybe? Fuck.

"Lots of things've changed since I last saw you," she said, with a tired smile, as she touched her stomach unconsciously, "For you as well, I'm guessin'". She looked at Ronan again.

"Uh. Yeah. Come in out of the cold." Adam wondered for a minute if it was better to just be rude and leave, since they were already at the door, but his Southern manners were too ingrained. "This is Ronan. My boyfriend."

Adam was very proud not to have stumbled over the word. This was the first time he had ever introduced Ronan to anyone, he realized, let alone as a boyfriend, let alone to someone from the park.

"Lucy and her folks live a few trailers down from us - from my parents." Shit, he did stumble after all.

Lucy stared at Ronan. Ronan stared back. They were very different stares.

"I live with Ben now," Lucy said.

"Is he - ?"

"Yeah," Lucy admitted, unenthusiastic, "My folks kicked me out when they found out, though Ben's folks weren't too happy either.”

She took off the hood of her hoodie, baring her mousy hair, and Adam saw purple bruises on her wrist when her sleeve dipped down. His eyes trailed to her exposed neck and he saw the mark of fingers that had been wrapped around it at some point recently.

A completely instinctive wave of terror and rage washed through his gut, like ice and lava. The marks reminded him of the horrors both the demons he'd known in his life had wreaked.

All Adam was conscious of was a loud ringing in both ears, as if his dad had finished the job. If Lucy, or Ronan, were saying something, he couldn't hear it. He’d stepped towards her, he thought, or maybe he'd stayed frozen? He wasn't sure suddenly. Had he moved? Had he said something? Why couldn't he remember?

He didn't know what showed on his face or what his body language conveyed, but Lucy said, a warning in her voice that cut through his mental white noise, "Adam."

His eyes snapped up to hers, head clearing, and he felt Ronan stiffen next to him and hold his wrist with a firm hand, though he wasn't sure why.

“Did Ben - Is _Ben_...?”

“Adam,” Lucy's voice was falsely bright, “I hear you got into Harvard.”

He struggled to process that she had said something and required an answer, “Uh, yeah.”

“That's great. I'm glad you're going. You were always too good for this place, for the park. Too smart.”

Adam just looked at her.

“I had to drop out of school. Ben did too, so he can work full time at the factory. Some of us... can't get out of here that easy. You remember what that's like, right?” she said, in a softly bitter voice.

Adam nodded. He remembered.

“So, just go, and - good for you. I'm glad. You look great. You look...happy. Good luck.”

She looked at Ronan, then, and Adam realized that something in her gaze had changed. He wasn't sure what, except that it was a good change.

Ronan had let his hand go.

He said, keeping his voice level with difficulty, “Good luck to you too, Luce. You take care now, okay?”

“Sure,” she smiled in a way that Adam couldn't bear to see.

He opened the door and almost ran out, suddenly unable to breathe.

As he jogged out to the BMW, he heard Ronan behind him saying _Parrish, hey, Adam_ , but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He needed to...go...leave...get out...

He found himself leaning against the car, hands on his knees, unable to get enough oxygen. Or maybe he was getting too much.

He _shouldn't_ be able to breathe, actually. That was only fair. Not when he had wrapped his own hands around Ronan's neck, causing bruises just like Lucy’s. When he was from the same dirt as those trailer trash men like his dad and Ben, who hurt people they should love. Hurt Lucy. Who was pregnant. At 16. _Jesus Christ._ He was going to throw up.

He felt Ronan's warm, large hand rub up and down his back, grounding him. He thought he felt the edges of leaves tickling his face, and smelled wet earth and moss, but that was probably wishful thinking.

When his nausea and breathing finally normalized, he got into the car without a word. Ronan got in too and they drove back home.

_Home._

Adam got out of the car before Ronan had fully stopped, ran straight into the bathroom and turned the shower on. He heard Ronan running up the steps after him, calling his name, but he didn't reply.

By the time Ronan had come in, he was already under the scalding water, chucks, hoodie and all, arms crossed protectively around his chest. Ronan came right up behind him, combat boots, leather jacket and all, and held him tightly from behind. They both stood for many, many minutes under the blessed, unendingly hot dreamt shower, until Adam finally stopped shivering.

Ronan let him go and Adam braced himself against the shower wall and continued to let the water wash him away. Allowed his old dirty scabbed skin to slough off in increments until it swirled down the drain.

He felt Ronan tugging at his hoodie, and allowed himself to be undressed completely, still propping himself against the wall whenever he could. When Ronan finally wrapped his arms around him from behind again, he realized they were both naked.

"What do you need?" Ronan said in his good ear, though the water made it garbled.

Adam couldn't make words. Or, there were too many words and not enough brain and mouth and tongue to say them with. Not enough space in his throat to string them out one by one. To separate them.

"What do you need, Adam?" Ronan asked again. Louder.

"Just - to not think. Forget I'm Adam Parrish. Like when I'm scrying," he managed to get out, though his teeth were clenched painfully.

"Do you want to scry?"

" _I can't_."

"Okay."

Ronan dropped a kiss against his temple and walked out of the bathroom. After a long moment, he returned holding something purple in his hand.

He came into the shower and shut the door. He turned Adam around and propped him up against the wall and said, "I wanted to show you this properly, at a - better time, but now might be the best time."

He held out the thin, longish purple thing, and Adam, distracted despite himself, realized it was a -dildo?

"Is that a...?"

"Yeah, it's a vibrating dildo. I dreamed it up this week."

"Wow."

They had vaguely spoken about trying out toys but hadn't gotten around to looking at any. But then, dreaming one up was just perfect.

Adam took it in his hands and ran his fingers over the surface. It felt and looked exactly like a real penis, slightly curved.

"Nice work, Lynch. Except - whose cock were you basing this on, exactly? Because it's _tiny_."

It was. About the size of a long, slim tube of lipstick, with a wide flat base.

"It's adjustable," Ronan said with a snort. "It grows. And gets warm."

"Just like the real thing, then," Adam grinned back, his black mood slowly dissolving around the edges.

"Ha ha. Yes, Einstein. Except, I mean it's a finger in width now, so it'll go in easily. But it'll grow as you need it until it becomes the size of a full cock."

"And what size is a full cock, according to you Lynch? Normal, like mine, or - " he gestured towards Ronan's growing dick, "obscenely large?"

"You weren't complaining last night in the car."

"I wasn't complaining last night because I couldn't complain while I had something obscenely large in my mouth."

"Well, now you can have something obscenely large in your mouth and your ass at the same time."

"Or you can first just help me test drive this baby."

Ronan silently grabbed the lube and poured some over the purple toy, making it glisten. He then rubbed his wet finger around Adam's hole, as Adam threw his head back against the tiled wall and moaned in relief.

"Wait, wait," he said. "It vibrates?"

"Yeah."

Ronan showed him the buttons, including the one that controlled the size.

"Put it in me," Adam said filthily, and pulled Ronan in for an even filthier kiss. Ronan pushed Adam back against the wall, kissing him back hard, pulled his hips forward and wiggled the dildo against him.

"Shall I turn it on?"

They were both breathing harshly.

"No, just let's try the size part first," Adam gasped as Ronan slid the dildo in, inch by inch, until it bottomed out.

"Good?" Ronan panted against Adam's neck.

"Good," Adam confirmed, "More."

Adam made a surprised sound as Ronan turned a dial and Adam felt the dildo swell a little inside him.

"That feels - really weird -" he said.

"Stop?"

They had started to use words like Good, Wait and Stop to communicate during sex, and so far, it was working out okay. But it wasn't perfect.

"Stop it growing, but fuck me with it more."

Ronan turned Adam around and Adam leaned his arms against the tiles. He felt Ronan kneel behind him and then teeth were gently biting his thighs and ass as Ronan began to move the slightly swollen dildo in and out more forcefully.

Adam turned his head and saw Ronan completely focused on what he was doing, one hand pulling Adam's ass cheeks apart. Adam could see purple blurs and he was now completely hard and turned on like crazy. It wasn't just the dildo; it was seeing Ronan so intent on his ass, imagining what Adam must look like to him, with some strange purple thing inside him, sticking out of him. The view must be pretty - interesting.

Adam wanted to see the same view, with Ronan's ass. Could they both use the same dildo? Should they have put a condom on it? It was getting warm now actually, more like a real dick. Ronan changed the angle of the thrusts and suddenly Adam couldn't give two fucks about anything else besides the quickly growing excitement running through his veins.

"Shit, Ronan."

Ronan looked up at him, and said, "More?"

"Yeah. Yeah."

Ronan added more and more lube, until he was sliding a dick as long and thick as Adam's into him, as he gasped and moaned. It was a really, really strange sensation, because he had only ever had Ronan's cock and fingers in him. So having something that was different sizes was - well, different.

Adam preferred Ronan's cock any day.

"You wanna try the vibration?"

"Yeah, but like, the lowest one."

"I'm going to shrink it a bit first, okay?" Ronan's voice was unsteady and his breath was shivery. But he hadn't touched his painful looking erection, still focused completely on Adam.

Adam felt a bit empty as the dildo became smaller and he made a protesting sound.

And then almost jumped out of his skin.

"Holy shit!" he yelped, as the pulsing and shaking dildo turned his ass into quivering jello.

"Jesus Christ," Ronan breathed his smoker's breath, "Fuck Adam. You're going to go insane doing this to me."

Yes, Adam could probably almost come just from watching Ronan's ass jiggle constantly, but right now he was more focused on the various angles at which Ronan was moving the vibrating wand around.

Adam jumped uncontrollably again, with a shout.

"There?"

"Oh fuck, yes, _there_ , God, Ronan, shit, don't _stop_ ," he babbled, panted, hands pressed flat on the wall, head hanging down.

And Ronan went to town on his ass.

By the time the vibrating dildo was Ronan-sized, Adam was leaning against the tiles, shouting and yelling and crying out, as he pushed his ass back frantically against Ronan's hand. The tiles were painfully cold against his nipples, his shoulder, his cheek, but he was hot all over.

Ronan gritted out, "Oh shit, shit, Adam you're too fucking much, you're driving me crazy," in a desperate voice, but Adam couldn't focus, despite the dildo being almost soundless.

He was just a mindless heap of sensations, with no thought or idea of what he was doing and saying, or how loud he was being, or who could hear him.

He had officially lost his mind.

He was going to die from this.

He was fine with that.

He was totally okay with it, actually.

He just needed to _come_ before he died.

Or at least, before his legs gave out.

Ronan had stood up now, and was pressing Adam's upper half against the tiled wall, as his hand fucked him savagely.

"D'you want to come?"

"I wanna - come. Then I want - you - to...fuck me again. You."

Adam's words were spit out in time to the thrusts, voice shaking.

"Oh God Adam, fuck, _fuck_ ," Ronan said, gritting his teeth, on hearing that Adam wanted it again. Wanted him.

Adam shouted out as Ronan's hand wrapped around his crazily leaking cock and stroked him slickly.

Ronan had moved to his side, so he could focus on his left hand blurring around Adam and his right hand blurring into him, in time with each other. The rhythm was a bit off, but Adam was suddenly shouting out in one long continuous sound, tendons and muscles tensed painfully, hands clawing at the walls in vain, as he painted the tiles and Ronan's hand with what seemed like never-ending streams of hot cum.

When he was done, Ronan took the dildo out and pulled him back against his chest, as they both shivered and panted like they'd run a marathon.

Ronan was stroking his stomach and his chest in a soothing rhythm, arms supporting him tightly, while he rested his forehead against the blissfully cool tiles. Ronan turned the shower on and cleaned them up quickly.

Adam gripped the back of Ronan's thigh and pulled him closer, meaningfully. His nails dug into generous muscle. He was not done yet.

"Adam," Ronan said against his ear, "Are you sure? It'll hurt you."

"I'm sure. Just start slow. I - I need more."

He still knew he was Adam Parrish. That was not good enough. He needed complete oblivion.

He felt Ronan wrap him in a large fluffy towel and lead him to the bed. They passed their clothes and shoes on the floor, including Ronan's ruined leather jacket. It didn't even register with Adam, where earlier the waste would've driven him crazy.

Ronan lay him down on his back, still wrapped in the towel and held himself carefully over him as he kissed his forehead, his jaw, his throat, again and again.

"Adam. Adam. I love you, I love you," Ronan stroked his face, his wet hair, gently.

"Ronan," Adam pulled his face towards him.

They kissed blissfully at first, tongues wrapping lazily around each other. But soon Adam was biting Ronan's mouth and tongue and lips, wanting, wanting.

He stroked Ronan's semi-hard cock with his hand, knowing that would be enough to get Ronan hard again.

"Ronan, I need you in me," he gasped into Ronan’s mouth, as Ronan groaned into his. 

Ronan slid a pillow under him, lined his lubed self up, looked into Adam's eyes and entered him in one swift thrust.

They both shouted out at the shock of it.

Ronan _never_ entered him like that. He was too big and it was usually in slow increments, even if they had fucked earlier. But Adam was wide open, and had just come, and even though he was tender and oversensitive, it was - mind-blowing.

"God, Jesus Christ, Adam, oh fucking _shit_ ," Ronan stilled for a few moments, breathing shakily against his neck and gaining back control, and then slowly slid in and out of him, hand gripping his hair tightly.

He was going for gentle but Adam didn't want that. He gripped Ronan's powerfully muscled shoulders, clawing him closer and breathed out, "C'mon Ronan, faster. I need it harder. Fuck me properly."

Ronan gasped out an _'Oh fuck'_ , and pushed Adam's knees hard towards his chest, leaving Adam lewdly and widely open. And began to mercilessly pound into him.

Adam threw his head back and screamed, till his voice cracked. It was too much, it was _too much_ , he was too sensitive, oh my God, it was almost unbearable.

It was _exactly_ what he needed.

Ronan put his legs over his shoulders, his hands on either side of Adam's head, draping himself so intimately over Adam, and fucked into him incessantly. Adam was whining desperately between clenched teeth, eyes tightly shut, fingers digging into flexing shoulders, gripping Ronan tightly in every way he could, his cock sliding between them.

Ronan was continuously gritting out a string of sub-vocal prayers of _fuck, fuck, Adam, shit, Jesus_ , which meant his control over himself was shaky. Adam hoped to God this wasn't over soon. He needed this to never end.

Ronan pressed his thumb against Adam's perineum and his cries jumped up a notch. Ronan was gripping his thigh so hard it was going to bruise, but Adam gloried in the tidal wave of sensations, crashing into his mind, ripping his legs out from under him, overwhelming his consciousness.

Ronan fucked him and fucked him, seemingly endlessly. Time lost all meaning, until Adam was floating in a liminal space, disconnected from everything but the continuous streams of white hot pleasure burning through him. It _was_ like scrying. He was formless; just a cloud of nerve endings.

And then suddenly the sensations impossibly turned up to eleven, as Ronan took his cock in a firm grip and stroked him in time to his speeding thrusts.

It was like Adam went from floating disembodied to now having everything in the universe suddenly pulled back into his core. He felt like every single atom that had ever existed was coiled tight at the base of his spine, deep in his pelvis, becoming smaller and heavier and denser and then...and then...and then...it all exploded out of him from the top of his head. Forming galaxies and suns and stars and spreading his molecules across the vast reaches of space.

He left a part of himself behind there; a part that he didn't need anymore, that was weighing him down. He was not the old Adam Parrish when he returned. He was newly made and full of light and lightness. He was a part of the stars and the stars were a part of him now.

Adam still floated in the aftermath of his almost out-of-body experience. In this complete bone-deep relaxation, he realized how tense and stressed he usually was, even after a regular orgasm (or two).

They had eaten and drunk whatever was within reach (trail mix and water), too exhausted to move much after cleaning up. He lay with his head on Ronan's chest, as Ronan ran his fingers through his hair, sensual and soothing.

Suddenly Adam said, in a voice hoarse from overuse, "Opal's at Fox Way right?"

"Yeah."

She usually went there on weekends now. She loved all of those ladies, including, to Adam's and Ronan's mystification, Gwenllian.

"Thank God."

"Why?"

"I was shouting, right?"

"Yeah. Screaming, too."

"No need to look so smug, you dickwad."

"Why the fuck not? I'm pretty sure I had something to do with it."

"Fucker."

"Precisely. Especially since you used to be all 'I can only come quietly. That's just how I am Ronan'," he said in a bad imitation of Adam's accent.

Adam kissed him hard, just to shut him up, of course. And suddenly broke off, serious.

"I keep thinking that I can never come harder than I did the last time, and then you make me. What the fuck, Ronan?"

"Just for me to know: Are you complaining?"

"No. _Jesus._ But I'm gonna die from it if we keep going like this."

"You needed to stop thinking. So, you fucking stopped thinking, right?"

"I stopped existing for a while. It was like scrying."

"Okay, good. That was the brief," Ronan grinned, triumphant.

Adam snorted. "How did you last that long anyway? That was...superhuman."

"I already came once."

"When?"

"In the shower."

"No you didn't."

"How the hell would you know?" Ronan scoffed, "You were out of your fucking mind."

"You jacked yourself off?"

"Nope."

"Shit. You came _untouched_?" Adam’s eyes went wide.

"Yup."

"Fuck. How come?"

“Seeing my dreamt purple dildo jiggling in your ass, an inch from my nose? And your reactions. Seriously, you were like..." Ronan shook his head, at a loss for words.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Tonight was fucking intense. My back and your ass need a rest after this.”

“God, yes. But you need to dream more stuff like this. It was amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I'll want to take some of this stuff with me. And I was thinking, wondering actually, I don't know if we should - share - stuff? How do we clean it?”

Snorting, Ronan asked, “You want his and hers dildos? Should I make yours or mine pink?”

“Mine, you shitheaded asshole, 'cos I'm bi.”

“So mine should be rainbow coloured?”

“I would love to see Mr. Ronan Lynch, Greywaren, _‘I only wear black clothes and tattoos’_ , with a rainbow coloured dildo sticking out of his ass.”

They both grinned at the mental image.

Adam said, “Speaking of being bi, Lucy already knew I was with you. So - they must all know, at the trailer park.”

“Does that bother you?” Ronan asked, cautious.

“No. It's the last thing I care about actually. It was - good - introducing you as my boyfriend to someone from there.”

Ronan looked at him, meaningfully, “She seemed okay with it, towards the end at least.”

“Yeah, I don't think that was it.”

“Then?”

“I think she thought - don't get mad okay - but I think she thought...you look pretty scary, you know. At first glance. Dangerous.”

Ronan's face changed completely and Adam's stomach swooped, not in a good way. Ronan was going to lose his shit. Dammit. He should've kept his stupid mouth shut.

“She thought I was - ”

“No. I think she was just - kinda wondering - that's all. But towards the end, she realized. That's what she meant when she said I looked great. That I looked happy.”

“Yeah. _She_ should fucking talk about abusive relationships.”

“Fuck. She's, like, _sixteen_. And Ben's whacking her while she's _pregnant_? And her parents threw her out? And they both dropped outta school?" Adam ran a hand through his hair and moved up to face Ronan on the pillow.

"Shit, Ronan, it's a fucking mess. Jesus Christ. And I have no idea what to do - if I should say something. To her. I hated it when Gansey used to try to talk to me. But I get it now. It just seems like I'm standing by and...enabling it. But what could I even say?"

Adam shook his head, at a loss.

"And seeing those marks around her wrists and throat, I had a flashback to the demon again. I feel like I’m never gonna get over that.”

“Not unless we do something about that," Ronan said, pointedly, "You need to connect your hands around my throat to other things, in another context.”

“I kind of do that when we fuck sometimes, or when you swallow.”

“Yeah, but you just hold on to my throat with, like, one hand," Ronan slipped his hand around Adam's throat, and pressed a little, "You don't actually squeeze. That’s not…we could do it properly.”

Adam put Ronan's other hand around his throat as well, "So, I fuck you with both my hands around your throat, _choking_ you? I don’t know about that. I don’t I want to bruise you, Ronan. It's..." Adam shuddered, "It's too many bad memories. And it could be really dangerous.”

“That's exactly the point about the memories, asshole. And it gives you a high, you know. When you come. I’ve heard.”

“Yes, I know you moron," Adam rolled his eyes, pushing Ronan's hands away, "Everyone knows about autoerotic asphyxiation, at least. Mainly because of all the famous deaths from it.”

They were both silent for a beat.

"Anyway, with Lucy's bruises, I then thought of my dad, too. Seriously, I could so easily have been stuck there, like her and Ben. In that trailer, in that park, with my parents. It scared the shit outta me. That my life could so easily have gone a different way.”

"You would never have been stuck there."

"You can't just say that because you love me, or whatever. How do you _know_?" Adam fired up instantly, "What if I wasn't smart? What if I hadn't been the Magician? What if I didn't get into Harvard?"

"When have I ever lied? Even just to make you feel better or because I love you, you shithead," Ronan raised a challenging eyebrow, "It's not about being smart, or magical. Trust me. It's about being driven. It's about working hard. It's about wanting to get out."

"But it's also that I had you guys. Lucy doesn't have anyone like that, I'm pretty sure. You, Gansey, Blue. Cabeswater. Persephone. Opal. You all literally saved my life."

"You saved yourself. You made choices. You saved us too. You definitely - saved me."

"You mean, with the acid pool?"

"No. I mean..." Ronan paused for a moment, trying to either gather his thoughts or get the words out, "if you hadn't been there, I don't know - what I'd be doing, who I'd be, or who I'd be with."

"Kavinsky?"

Ronan shook his head, almost emphatic, but at the last moment, he changed it to a shrug, "Not him, I don't think. I don't know. I mean, if I _had_ gotten together with him, can you imagine how _my_ life might have gone? But with you there, it was never going to happen. You made me want to be...someone you might actually be with. Even when I thought you were straight. You never asked me to change but you changed me anyway."

"You changed me too," Adam said, softly, fingers tracing Ronan's lips absentmindedly.

Ronan looked at him.

"Before you, my life was so dull, dreary. You brought magic into my world. I mean Gansey and Noah and Blue did too, but it was mostly you. I became the Magician because of Cabeswater, which was all you. But mostly, _you_ changed me. Me loving you – just loving anyone, really - but me loving a man, was something I would have never considered. I don't think it would have happened without you."

Ronan kissed his fingers, then leaned forward and kissed his lips, and Adam lost himself in Ronan's mouth, like he always did.

***

After a very pleasant pause, Ronan suddenly asked, “You were never attracted to any guy before?”

“Not consciously. I remember - wrestling - with this one kid when I was younger, at the trailer park, and really liking it. I just thought I liked - wrestling. And then later I thought I was just learning about how my dick worked, y'know?”

Ronan snorted.

"What happened with him?"

"My dad found us basically rubbing against each other one afternoon, though we thought we were just 'wrestling', and whacked the shit outta me. His dad did too, I think. He never spoke to me again."

Ronan's jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared.

"Well, that's what we trailer trash folks are good at right? Being abusive parents. Being shit parents. Being teenage parents, too, apparently," Adam said with bitterness.

"Adam, don't," Ronan stroked his cheekbone with a thumb.

"At least we don't have to worry about me knocking you up," Adam huffed out a wry laugh.

"I wish you _could_ knock me up," Ronan whispered.

He looked at Ronan, startled.

For a long moment, they gazed deep into each other's eyes. It was a moment that made time into a slipstream. Adam's soul gazed into Ronan's dark pupil, ringed with ice, and saw their entire past and their entire future, mapped out like a single, shining river that led into the horizon of the ocean.

It was like being submerged in the ley line again.

"Yeah?" Adam's voice shook a bit, at the magnitude, the poignancy, of such a statement, though he couldn't yet completely wrap his head around all the things Ronan meant with it, "You...want to have kids? With me?"

"Of course," Ronan shrugged.

Because this was so simple for him. It was so easy for him to say this out loud. When it came to Adam, when it came to truth, Ronan Lynch's world was black and white and he was not shy about owning it.

"I want to have everything with you. Everything that we want together."

"Ronan," Adam's voice was - he didn't know what he sounded like. It was too much to process.

"It's okay. We don't have to talk about it right now."

"Ronan, I don't know if - I want to have kids. I've never let myself even think about it. Because..." Adam broke off, realizing he must be hurting Ronan with his words.

"I know, Adam. I get it. And that's fine. I'm not putting this on you, on us, right this fucking minute," Ronan's voice was clipped, but not angry.

Then it softened, "But you're not him. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, but - I'm so fucked up, Ronan." There was almost something pleading in Adam's voice, begging Ronan to understand, "There are more ways to fuck your kids up than just by hitting them."

"You don't think I'm fucked up?" Ronan's eyebrows were pulled into a furious frown, "You don't think my dad fucked me up? Fucked Declan up? I didn't get this way just by finding my dad's body, you know. I was already a work in progress by then. Everybody's parents fuck them up, it's just that some do it more than others, and in different ways. And we spend the rest of our lives sorting that shit out, dealing with it."

This was more objective insight that Adam had ever heard from Ronan. It made him wonder, as he had done many times before, how much was happening under Ronan's faux-careless exterior, inside his whip-sharp mind. How much he underestimated this boy.

No.

This _man_.

When you started seeing your parents as people, you were becoming an adult.

"Then - why?"

"Because, it didn't mean he didn't love me, love us. That I don't fucking love Declan, despite the sphincter that he is. Growing up with a family, with siblings, here at the Barns, in a loving home, was..." Ronan broke off and rubbed a hand down his face, suddenly looking tired, "I had a great childhood and I think all kids should have that chance."

"So, you're talking about adoption? I thought - "

"I _am_ talking about adoption. Or having babies of our own in some way. Or both. Or neither. But yeah, what I meant was - " Ronan stopped, let out a deep breath, and continued, "I meant that a part of me would give anything to have a child _with_ you. Half you, half me. Make a person together that's made up of both of us. But - we can't. The most we could do is have a child that's half only _one_ of us, and half someone else. And it's no one's fault, and maybe it's heteronormative bullshit, but it still fucking sucks, you know?"

"Oh, _Ronan."_

This was something Adam had never even thought about, had never even imagined could be an issue. 

He'd never considered that non-straight people might yearn, in vain, to have biological children with their partners. It was something that he had taken for granted, because he had thought he was straight; had not even doubted that he'd end up with a woman. Even if he had never wanted to have kids, he'd always known at the back of his mind that the option existed for him.

Like it existed for Ben and Lucy, even if they clearly hadn't wanted it.

And Adam probably would never have realized all this, if he hadn't gotten together with Ronan.

Shit.

Life _could_ really fucking suck sometimes...

Ronan continued, his tone a combination of bitter and resigned, "I mean, no matter who I was with, it was only going to be one of those two options for me, adoption or the other, cos I'm gay. Knowing that doesn't make it any less shitty but - it's biology. No fucking use ranting about it." 

He paused, took another deep, shuddering breath and said, as if the words were torn from his very soul, "But because you're with me, you gave up that option too. You could've had a child with - someone else - with a woman."

Adam knew how much it must've cost Ronan to make this admission, to share this out loud.

He slid his hand into Ronan's, needing to make him understand, "That child would still be half me, half someone else that _isn’t YOU_ , Ronan. I would never want that. And can’t even think about that right now. I haven't even graduated high school for fuck's sakes - "

He took a deep breath and continued.

"But I absolutely know that I'd rather have no kids at all, than lots of kids with someone who isn't you. And I don't mean just genetically - I mean even raising kids, with someone who isn't you. Living my life with someone who _isn't you_."

Ronan gasped softly at that, a deep, wet, shuddering sound.

"And no one knows better than I do how little birth parents mean, okay? Trust me. I might look like both my parents and have bits of both my parents in me - unfortunately - but they...weren't family. We weren't family.”

Ronan looked up at that, wet eyes wide. Adam could see a tear drop clinging to his incredibly long black lashes. He reached out and brushed it with a finger and squeezed the hand in his softly.

" _You_ are my family, Ronan. I'm so lucky to have found you, because _no one_ will love me as much as you do. And all our friends are my family. And the Fox Way ladies and your brothers. You are all the people that I chose, choose, to love. Who love me back. Genetics means fucking _squat_. It doesn't automatically mean love or identity or belonging.”

Ronan let out a deep, shaky breath, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Adam realized Ronan had never thought about things this way. His life had been so…confined to, so sheltered by, the circle of his loving but traditional family at the Barns, that he hadn’t known that families could be different than that. Could look different and act differently. Be created differently, even. 

“And I didn't give up _anything_ when I chose you, fell in love with you. I got so much, actually. More than I would've ever imagined. I wouldn't trade it for anything. There's nothing anyone can offer me that would tempt me, because I'm not missing anything, okay? My life is so rich, so full."

Ronan was silent, holding Adam's hand and looking at his thumb stroking his knuckles again and again. Adam hoped he was getting through to him.

"Don't do this thing that you do of blaming yourself, because then you're taking away from my choices; disrespecting them. Like I chose to sacrifice myself to Cabeswater, I chose to be with you, though it was the opposite of a sacrifice. And me being with you, a man, is also my choice. I could've chosen a woman, or anyone else. I don't know how much of a choice we have about falling in love, but we definitely choose to stay in love. And I chose you. I choose you. I will always choose you, Ronan. _Meus fidus amor aeternus_."

My true love forever. 

Adam put his fingers to Ronan's mouth when he said those words. Ronan's lips trembled and a tear ran down his cheek, as he closed his eyes. 

Adam kissed it away and gripped Ronan's hand so hard that he was sure it was painful for Ronan. But this was a big talk, a big moment for them as a couple, for both of them as people, and Adam wanted to _be_ with Ronan through it. Wanted his strength, as much as he wanted to lend Ronan his own. They were in this together.

Ronan was silent for so long that Adam opened his mouth to say something, when Ronan's teary confessional continued:

"I think if we ever have biological kids, they should be...yours. Because mine might be dreamers. And I don't know if I have the right to knowingly pass on something like that, the fucking gift or the curse of it, to anyone who didn't ask for it, who didn't know what they were getting into."

Adam sighed internally. He wanted to say he didn't think he was exactly a genetic jackpot, and that they should talk more about why Ronan felt this way about being a dreamer, but he didn't want to interrupt.

"I used to sometimes wish I could dream a child that's half you, half me. But that would still be _my_ creation or my approximation of such a child. It wouldn't _actually_ be half you, half me. And of course, like Matty, like my mom, it would - he or she or they would -"

 _Go to sleep after I'm dead_ , Adam finished the sentence in his head.

Ronan took a shaky breath with his head turned against the pillow, unable to speak anymore, as Adam put his palm on his cheek and stroked Ronan’s damp face soothingly.

It was heart-breaking to see how much Ronan blamed himself for just _being who he was_. For something that he fundamentally could not change, or help. For creating Matthew out of desire, like birthing a child, only to have unwittingly put his own creation under a death sentence. Or rather a sentence of endless sleep or life imprisonment in a version of Cabeswater.

Ronan was innocent of anything but lovingly yearning for a baby brother at the tender age of three. If anyone was to blame, it was Niall Lynch, for not telling Ronan any of this before he died. 

"Matthew is not your fault, Ronan. You were too young. I know you feel you're responsible, because you created him. But you didn't _know_. But your dad knew. About your mom and Matty and you being a dreamer. And he didn't say anything to you about it. You didn't know who you were, what you were for so long, and fucking _Kavinsky_ of all people needed to teach you to dream properly. I...I'm angry with your dad for that. Even though I never met him. But, I'm angry that he never told you, never taught you and left you to figure it out."

Ronan burrowed into the space between Adam’s neck and shoulder, breathing shakily through his mouth, teeth pressed wet against Adam’s skin. Adam held onto him tightly, one hand on his neck and another rubbing his shuddering back.

"But Matty's _not your_ _fault_ , Ronan. You didn't know. You didn't know about him for so long. And we'll try and figure out how to help him. We'll try together. Matthew is my responsibility too now, okay? He's my family too. You're not alone in this anymore. I'm here. I'm in this with you. It's okay. It's going to be okay."

Adam didn't know if that last part was true, but he was not Ronan.

Adam could lie.

He held Ronan tightly for a long time, soothing him with his hands, until both their hearts beat together and his chest grew completely wet. Until Ronan's sobs quietened and his breaths evened out, and Adam's arms fell asleep.

But Ronan didn't sleep. And Adam knew this, because he didn't sleep either, for a long time.

***

Adam awoke, bleary but sudden, not sure of what was happening exactly.

He must've fallen asleep at some point, though he couldn't remember. His body was still exhausted, and aching sweetly from all the sex. But - something had woken him up...

Ronan was on his side, facing away from him, body twisted on the bed and - panting...and writhing.

Adam had woken up because Ronan's hand was bumping against him, as he moved one of his fingers in and out of himself.

"Ronan," he gasped out, turned on to the max at once, even though he was not fully awake yet, "Fuck. What - ?"

"Adam, _Adam_ ," Ronan breathed, desperate, pleading.

Adam had a lot of questions going through his mind as soon as his brain woke up, as usual: 'Are you okay?’, ‘Did you sleep?’, ‘Do we need to talk more about last night?’, but right now was not the time to think about them.

Right now Ronan needed him. Ronan made this abundantly clear when he grabbed Adam's hand and pushed his fingers against the crack of his ass.

"Okay, okay, _God_ ," Adam experimentally slid a finger into Ronan's hot, wet heat, and heard a long relieved groan from him.

"Gimme some more lube."

Ronan squeezed some into Adam's outstretched hand and then began to rock his hips against him again, pushing back needily and rhythmically.

"Do you need to be fucked?" Adam asked softly, adding a second finger.

"Just your fingers," Ronan gasped out.

Adam slid his other arm under Ronan's body, pushing himself closer against his back, and Ronan took his fingers into his mouth with a needy groan.

This was Ronan's 'comfort' position: Adam's fingers in his mouth and ass. And after last night's talk Ronan must definitely want - need - lots of comforting.

He suckled on Adam's fingertips and his knuckles, held onto his hand and moved his fingers in and out of his mouth, to the same rhythm as Adam was fucking his ass.

"Turn around," Adam said, needing to see him, see his face. He needed to make sure Ronan was okay.

Ronan turned around quickly, throwing one leg over Adam's hip, as Adam's fingers entered him everywhere again immediately.

His eyes were closed in contentment, sensual lips wrapped around two of Adam's fingers, while two more were sliding in and out of him below, stroking his sweet spot. Ronan was moaning helplessly, and Adam's cock was painfully hard, at being privileged enough to be witness to this, to be the cause and the remedy.

No one who saw Ronan only outside of their bedroom would ever imagine this side of him. Their friends knew he adored Adam, but he was still _Ronan_ when he was in public, rude and sarcastic and abrupt and aggressive, wrapped in barbed wire.

He was still the usual Ronan when it was just the two of them going about their daily business, most of the time. Exasperating and excessive in his emotions and actions. His communication consisting of more swear words than actual words, sometimes. Though that was changing.

But when it was them in bed, or on the couch or in the car after sex, basically anytime they were touching in some deliberate way, Ronan was his true self. It was as if when his skin touched Adam's, all his defences dissolved. Everything was always all or nothing with Ronan - he only seemed to have two settings.

He became the person he was earlier, probably when Gansey first knew him, or even younger.

Soft and sensitive and tender, and not afraid to show it. Loving and asking for love, fiercely, unashamedly and unselfconsciously. Sharing the deepest parts of himself, without editing.

Like he probably used to do when he would come home to his mother after school and tell her about his day, guileless and innocent and enthusiastic. Put his head on her lap, unreservedly.

Adam's heart broke when he thought of how much Ronan had changed, had _had_ to change, because of the things he had been through and who he was. So much of his trauma was connected to being a dreamer; being the son of a dream and a dreamer. Adam now understood his reluctance to pass that onto his children.

Adam was one of the few people who knew that all of Ronan's posturing and spiky armour, from the tattoo to the shaved head to the sneering eyebrows, was necessary, was cultivated so carefully, _because_ he was so different on the inside.

His outside was his first line of defence.

Adam was moving three fingers into Ronan now, and Ronan was pushing three fingers in and out of his mouth, sucking on them.

The only sounds he could hear were Ronan’s low, muffled moans and the squelching of the lube. It was an incredibly erotic and intimate symphony, in the milky darkness of the early morning, in their quiet bedroom, on their musky-smelling sheets.

Insects must've been chirping quite loudly, and birds must've been twittering at this time of the morning, Adam vaguely knew, but they went unheard. His whole world was narrowed in on Ronan, feeling Ronan's tongue slide against his callouses, feeling Ronan's prostate deep inside him, feeling Ronan's slippery heat around both sets of his fingers.

Adam's hips were seeking relief on their own accord, but he would come too soon if he actually rubbed against something. And that could wait. This was about Ronan.

Adam sat up and began kissing Ronan's naked body, needing to do something. Needing to love him, comfort him, more. He avoided his dark, flushed cock. He would jerk him off when Ronan was ready.

Before long he was biting and sucking red marks onto Ronan's skin, the savage hunger that was always so close beneath the surface now full blown and demanding. 

He was lavishing a sensitive nipple with rough attention when Ronan's moans suddenly reached a new pitch and Adam felt him groan his name around his fingers. He kissed his way down to Ronan's rich, lush cock, curved and leaking onto his stomach. He was going to try something new this time. Ronan needed everything he could give him.

He lapped up the cloudy fluid, and wrapped his mouth over the hot, soft head, wriggling his tongue along the slit. Ronan threw his head back, opened his mouth wide and shouted out.

Adam had never blown Ronan without hands, because Ronan was simply too large and long. It was something that completely frustrated him, considering Ronan took all of him in with ease now. Adam liked to be the best at everything, even in competition with Ronan. Especially in competition with Ronan.

But Ronan had clearly defeated him so far in two things - Latin and deep throating. Really, the man had almost no gag reflex, or could control it remarkably. So, doing this with both hands occupied was going to be - challenging.

Ronan was pretty far gone, though, so it would probably not take too long. Adam took Ronan carefully into his mouth as far as he could, stretching his lips wide around Ronan's incredible thickness.

God, Adam _loved_ this cock. It was just like Ronan. Too much in every way and utterly unignorable.

Ronan was still shouting, Adam's fingers hardly muffling the sound. Adam sucked him fast and wet, pressing even harder and faster inside his ass.

Ronan's hips were thrusting uncontrollably, and Adam kept moving away to stop from gagging, but Ronan didn't seem to know or care. He then pushed his tongue hard against the underside of Ronan's head, allowing his teeth to graze oh so delicately along the vein, pressed his thumb behind Ronan's balls and his other three fingers right onto his prostate, overwhelming him with sensations.

As he skilfully hit all the right notes on Ronan's body, he felt hot cum hit the back of his throat. Ronan came in an explosion of reactions, his whole body arched like a bow. Adam had never taken him this deep before, but he tried to be prepared for it. He managed to do it too, mostly, despite almost choking and eyes tearing painfully.

He watched Ronan's face relax into bliss, as Adam slipped his fingers out of his slack mouth. He was hard and aching but it didn't even matter right now.

He caressed Ronan's face and head softly with his clean thumb, traced his eyebrows and lips, heart overflowing with love and tenderness for this beautiful, beautiful boy. Who knew Adam Parrish could be tender? Certainly not Adam Parrish.

Ronan opened his eyes, clear and startling even in this light, and looked at him.

"Adam," Ronan's voice was rough from all the shouting.

"I love you," he said, softly.

"Adam. Did you come?"

"No, but I need to shower now before work anyway."

"Don't - do you want me to..."

"Just - turn around."

Ronan lay on his stomach and Adam kneeled over him and began to stroke himself hard and fast, groaning with relief.

He looked at Ronan's wide strong back, his vicious and vulnerable tattoo, his beautifully curved rump, his lube-wet skin. Thought about how he had been gifted this boy's heart and love and desire without having to earn it or work for it, how he may even deserve it someday. How they saved each other, changed each other, how Adam had found a home and family with him.

And he came all over Ronan quietly for once, with just a grunt, nails digging into Ronan's thigh hard, white stripes contrasting with black arabesques.

Ronan shivered as he felt Adam's cum hit him.

Adam lay back down, breathing hard, and put a finger on Ronan's back and outlined the tattoo with the wetness, re-inking it with his cum, mapping Ronan with his desire, like he did sometimes. 

This time, though, he wished his essence would seep into Ronan's skin, merging a part of Adam with him.

As he traced his DNA onto the whorls and curves, he willed it to combine with Ronan's in some way, any way. _Intus et in cute novi_ , he thought, _within and under your skin_. Even if it would be unseen, imperceptible, intangible, he still asked for it, because Ronan wanted it so.

Adam Parrish didn't believe in the word impossible. He knew that almost everything was within his reach if he worked hard enough, sacrificed enough. Even when it came to magical energies, demonic entities, creation, destruction and resurrection, Adam believed that almost nothing was out of his power to manipulate. Or for Ronan to manifest.

But perhaps not all miracles were created equally possible.

As he overlaid his innermost essence onto the dark lines cut into pale, lovely skin with Ronan's own tears and blood and pain, he thought: Let me protect him. Let me help him heal. Let me build a home with him.

_Let us somehow become a single self._

It was as close to a prayer as Adam had ever come.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits:
> 
> The line 'I wish you could knock me up' is adapted from Kari, a graphic novel with a queer storyline, by the absolutely fabulous Amruta Patil. I don't have my (signed! in person!) copy with me right now, but I think the actual words go something like: 'I'd give anything to be able to knock you up'. That line broke my heart when I read it and, years later, it's still stuck in my head.
> 
> The part about biology limiting LGBTQA+ options is based on a discussion a bi/trans friend of mine had with his partner. He generously gave me permission to reference their very private and personal conversation, which I admire and appreciate more than I can say.  
> So, thank you, Y.
> 
> Thanks for reading everyone! 
> 
> Have a fun, safe, healthy 2020. 
> 
> Thanks for the amazing support. I love every kudos and cherish every comment.


	7. A night for truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some fluffy smut/smutty fluff, for a change. 
> 
> Also, our boys start to talk about some Actual Stuff They Could Try, in their own cute but clueless Pynch way.
> 
> TW: Talking about (mild) masochism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to keep to a decent chapter length. So, the chapter count is probably going to increase. 
> 
> Just a heads up.

Backseats were fucking uncomfortable places, especially for two almost-grown boys as tall as Ronan and he were.

Adam thought this to himself irritatedly as they settled against the door, Ronan's back to his chest. Various parts of Adam were still throbbing (and not in a good way) after hitting assorted hard surfaces, during their usual quota of frantic fooling around.

The stars had already come out, but were invisible against the fogged up windows. One of Ronan's dim dreamt orbs was hovering near the ceiling, flickering like a candle. Mood lighting, Ronan had grinned, sharp and meaningful. Acoustic music was playing soft and low, but with amazing clarity, on the dreamt BMW speakers.

Adam had been relieved to find that Ronan actually listened to – well – _actual_ music sometimes, not just his shitty EDM. He hadn’t put it together until recently that Ronan was a trained musician, and so had an educated appreciation for it that had taken Adam by surprise. Adam had asked him why the boring EDM then, if he liked (and knew) good music. And Ronan had replied by saying, unexpectedly: ‘Cos it’s mathematical. And there aren’t any fucking words to distract me from the beats.

Adam stroked Ronan’s bare torso, waiting for their racing heartbeats to slow. Guitars were harmonising on the song now, a background soundtrack to their afterglow.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, still breathing hard, grazing his teeth against the black barbs that wrapped lovingly along Ronan's neck.

Adam remembered the exact moment he had consciously realised he was attracted to Ronan.

It was when he had seen the tattoo in its entirety for the first time, lit by the soft glow of the afternoon sun coming through the huge wall of Monmouth windows. Had noticed, without meaning to, how Ronan’s powerful back muscles flexed as he carelessly and unselfconsciously took off his sweat-damped tank top.

He remembered how his mouth had become sandpaper, as his eyes had traced the intricate black lines on the broad canvas of skin, almost unable to cognitively take it all in. How Adam had suddenly imagined it would look, if he savagely sucked some red onto the pale gaps in the dark pattern - like colouring between the lines.

He couldn't help but follow those stark strokes, which had led inevitably, inexorably, along the curve of Ronan’s back - to his high, perfect ass. The contours of which were unbearably clear under his low-slung sweat shorts. And his tongue had wanted to follow those marks all the way down, down...

He could see himself, kneeling behind Ronan and pulling down his shorts to expose those rounded globes. Juicy, his brain had subversively supplied. And his dry mouth had exploded painfully with saliva, at the thought of taking the soft flesh between his teeth.

And he had realised, with an awful sense of foreboding, that he was getting a hard-on thinking about one of his (male) best friends. About _Ronan_. While standing around with Gansey and Blue and Noah in the living room of Monmouth.

He had tried to act normal, to control his traitorous body, to stay conscious of the discussion. All the time wrestling with the fact that his entire sense of self had just been skewed sideways, in this one split second of appalling clarity. And all because of Ronan's _fucking_ tattoo.

Unnatural freak, he had said to himself then, in his father’s disgusted voice. And had burned helplessly, with both arousal and shame.

Well, Adam thought wryly now, as he traced down Ronan’s happy trail to his open fly with a wet wipe, this was the _least_ of the things that made either of them an ‘unnatural freak’. 

Adam was enjoying the prickling sensation of Ronan's scalp against his lips when an acoustic guitar began strumming out a new song. A series of chords swelled into the air, making both him and Ronan stiffen at the same time.

Because -

This song had been on Ronan’s mixtape. The one he had made for Adam.

The Parrish’s Hondayota Alone-Time side.

It was one of _their_ songs.

Adam wrapped both his arms around Ronan snugly, and kissed his temple.

“Is this when you knew?” Ronan asked, obviously thinking along the same lines, “Or did you already know by then?”

“Well, it's not like you were exactly subtle about it, Lynch, what with your yearning glances 'n all,” Adam replied, poking him below a naked rib.

Ronan pinched his arm in reply.

Adam hissed, pinching a nipple in retaliation. But all that did was make Ronan moan, which defeated the purpose somewhat.

As a reflex action and slight apology, Adam began stroking the nipple absentmindedly, as he continued, “But when I heard this side of the tape, I knew it was more than just a crush. I knew it was serious, for you.”

Ronan mumbled, “I didn’t think you even listened to the tape. You never said anything.”

“Well, you never said anything about actually putting it in the shitbox, fucker. Just like with the _manibus_.”

“Yeah, well, I almost didn’t want you to listen to it.”

“The Murder Squash song five times in a row might actually have made sure I didn't listen to it. Except, of course, I forwarded it every time. So, I got to the actual songs. Which was also kind of what you wanted, right?”

Ronan was silent. Which could mean so many things, but usually meant that he couldn't find truthful enough words that lied.

“Which songs made you _know_?” he finally asked.

“This song, where she says fuck you a lot.”

Ronan laughed softly.

“And the live one - about holding me down and kissing me. The one where we can't be friends and the one where I was something you could never have. I mean most of the others were nice, but those four on a side marked ‘Alone Time’,” Adam snorted, “were pretty clear. And pretty apt too. Surprisingly apt, actually.”

“Didn't you find out the names of the songs?”

“Um. No.”

“Adam Parrish didn't research something he didn't know? Im-fucking-possible,” Ronan scoffed, his nose grazing Adam’s jaw gently.

Adam was silent for a beat, and then breathed in deeply.

If Ronan could actually record these songs when he had thought Adam was straight, Adam could at least admit something embarrassing to Ronan now.

“It's just that, if I don’t know anything about them I can - pretend - that they're your songs, to me,” Adam mumbled, turning red.

Ronan turned his head and looked into his eyes for a moment. And kissed him so achingly sweetly that Adam died a little.

“Well, my voice is a little deeper than your average soprano’s. And I like how you assume those songs are all about you, dickhead. So fucking vain,” Ronan smirked and turned back around, breaking the moment on purpose. Letting Adam off the hook.

Well, too bad Adam wasn’t exactly planning to return the favour.

“Right. ‘Cos, you know, it's not like you'd been pining for me since...since when, actually?”

Ronan turned red, in his turn.

“It must have been sometime after I became friends with Gansey, but do you remember when?”

Silence.

“Ronan?” Adam poked him again in the ribs.

This time it was Ronan who took a deep breath.

“Since I saw you wheeling your bike up the hill to Aglionby one day, after you’d just joined.”

“What?”

Adam was stunned into silence.

He had to take a long moment and reframe every interaction he'd ever had with Ronan, from the beginning. He was so sure Ronan’s crush had slowly evolved after they'd all started hanging out. After the initial butting of heads Ronan had with everyone.

“Shit. How did you feel when Gansey introduced me to you then? When I joined your group?”

“I thought God hated me. I thought I was the fucking punch line of the universe. What do you think?”

“Wait, wait, you saw me with my shitty bike and shabby uniform and – what? - fell in love with me at first sight?”

“Fuck off, asshole.”

Adam pressed his lips against Ronan’s cheek, knowing that he was asking for a lot. Acknowledging it with the gesture. He felt Ronan exhale, defences crumbling.

“I really want to know, Ronan - what did you think?” Adam said, lips moving against Ronan's 9 o'clock shadow.

“I thought you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen,” Ronan said quietly, looking straight ahead at the opaque window opposite.

Adam's breath hitched.

“And I'm a dreamer. I'd seen a lot of beautiful things, even by then.”

Ronan took Adam's hand in his and kissed his large knuckles with a warm, open mouth. He turned and looked at Adam and said:

“I still think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

Oh _fuck._

Adam turned into a puddle of Parrish, right there on the backseat.

Ronan wasn’t often romantic, but when he was - hot damn.

“And I liked your hands” Ronan turned back and murmured against his fingertips

“No way. No _fucking_ way you noticed my hands that first time. Are you kidding me?” Adam knocked his head back in disbelief, hitting the window gently, knowing Ronan didn’t lie.

He had not been expecting this.

Ronan continued, “Yeah. But I hadn’t even admitted to myself that I was gay then, okay? I just…noticed you. And your hands - on the handlebars. That’s all. So don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“What is it you like about my hands so much?”

“I don’t know. I think they’re just - lovely,” Ronan said, stroking his thumb against Adam's.

“They’re red and dry and calloused. Well, they’re better after the _manibus_ but they’re still far from lovely.”

“It’s my fucking opinion, you argumentative asshole. You don’t get to criticise it.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. I – concede – that, for some crazy reason, you find my hands lovely.”

“Yeah,” Ronan ran his fingers along Adam’s palm, and gently bit the fleshy part under Adam’s thumb.

 _This is your Mount of Venus,_ Ronan had told him one evening on the Barns couch, lips against his palm. Serious and reverent.

 _That sounds like it should mean pussy,_ Adam had replied, smirking wickedly.

 _Don't say such things, asshole_ , Ronan had yelped, letting go of his hand hurriedly, _Way to kill the mood, you fucker._

Adam had fallen off the couch cackling helplessly at Ronan's horrified face, as he wiped his mouth and tongue frantically. And Opal had come running to see what all the fuss was about.

Adam smiled, remembering this.

It was so interesting being bisexual, sometimes.

“I’ve thought of these hands doing so many things to me,” Ronan was saying, serious and reverent yet again.

“I’m pretty sure these hands have done everything to you by now, including giving you a foot massage. What’s left?”

“Putting your whole hand inside me,” Ronan said, immediately. Like the words had already been queued up.

Adam’s mind shorted out.

Wait. What? _WHAT_???

He was speechless for a long moment. Unable to make words.

Then he managed to gasp out, “Is that even possible?”

“Yeah. Of course it is. And we’re going to try it someday.”

Ronan was crazily sexy in his confidence, in his calm certainty of knowing exactly what he wanted. But Adam was freaking the fuck out.

“Shit, Ronan. God. At least not for some time, okay? I need to wrap my brain around this.”

“Stop freaking the fuck out, Parrish. It’ll be fine. And we have loads of time,” Ronan took two of Adam’s fingers into his hot mouth to distract him.

Adam made a noise that sounded like _ngh_. He shivered, his mind flicking uselessly like a pendulum between the two things. His whole hand in Ronan someday. His fingers in Ronan's mouth right now. Holy fuck. Holy shit.

He felt himself quickly hardening against Ronan’s ass. When he looked down, sure enough, he saw Ronan’s cock rapidly growing too, between his open fly.

He traced a wet finger whisper-light down the length and felt Ronan's breath hitch, as he tugged an earlobe between his teeth.

“Look at you, all ready to go again, just for me,” Adam breathed hotly into Ronan’s ear, crazily turned on now.

“Do you like what these hands are doing to you now? Do you want them to do more?” he continued, as his fingertips stoked harder along Ronan’s length. He circled the wet slit with his index finger, in a thoroughly infuriating way. 

Ronan tilted his head against Adam’s shoulder and moaned - at the words and the actions. Adam’s other hand was dragging his nails up and down Ronan’s happy trail, feeling stomach muscles quiver.

He licked wetly inside the shell of an ear and continued to murmur, low and seductive, “Shall I jerk you off again?”

“Just - get on me,” Ronan gritted out.

Adam extricated himself with some difficulty, before kneeling astride Ronan’s legs. He aligned their now-erect cocks together between their stomachs, with a groan, as they kissed wild and needy. Ronan grabbed his ass and pulled him further onto his body.

Adam felt the combined wetness of their precum, the bite of Ronan’s zipper on his thigh and the lack of give of his trousers pushed only far enough to bare his ass. He dragged them down a little further, impatiently, and pushed his hips into Ronan’s, hearing him cut off a whine as he pushed back.

This instinctive movement, this pointed rolling of the hips, was something that still thrilled Adam. And not only because of the sensations it caused. He always got a jolt just from the visceral motion of it. It was a purely vulgar, sexual move. Such a lewd action. And so _alien_ to him. 

He'd never danced, or done anything truly hedonistic. Had never really used his body for pleasure before. Not even when he would hastily jerk off in his parents' tiny trailer or his cold bathroom, perfunctory and grimly silent. 

But now, every time he moved in lust, his muscle memory would recall fucking deep and dark into Ronan’s heat, or taking Ronan’s thick cock further into his hungry body.

The only thing better than _him_ rocking his hips was when Ronan did it.

Ronan Lynch sinuously moving his body was not for the faint-hearted.

He would sometimes notice Ronan’s pelvis sway with his natural gait, in public (because the man didn’t just _walk_ – he swaggered, he strutted, arrogantly graceful and unconsciously seductive), and all Adam could then think about was how those naked hips could move in private. 

He'd watch Ronan broodingly prowl around in his low-slung tight jeans, punctuated by a leather belt. Acting like he owned everything he looked at and despised most of it. 

And Adam would think to himself, 'I _see_ you. I see _through_ you. I am the _only_ one who knows how luscious your ass looks while riding my cock like you're worshipping it. How you like it when I leave bruises on your hips as I fuck into you. How you sometimes need me to hold you so tightly after you come.'

Acknowledging that _he_ was the one who had been chosen to see this secret, private, intimate side of Ronan would inevitably get Adam hard, pooling molten desire low in his gut. In public. Around their friends. At work. Anywhere inconvenient, usually. 

For an instant boner, just add Ronan, he had thought wildly. Or, rather, add his own obsessed mind. _Jesus Christ_ , he was beyond help.

As he now rocked his hips against Ronan's, Adam vaguely registered a familiar, yearning voice singing over the sound system: 'I guess this means we can’t be friends’. He and Ronan would, could, never have been just friends. They were always going to end up like this. Crashing into each other again and again - a magnificent mess.

He couldn’t believe Ronan had had a crush on him from before they’d even met. To have been wanted – by Ronan Lynch – for so long. For so much longer than he had thought. The knowledge sent a firestorm of lust raging through him.

He kissed Ronan hard, as he kicked off his school trousers. Wanting more contact, needing to be closer. To consume, to be devoured and erased.

Soon it was Ronan's hands clutching his hair, Ronan's naked legs holding him captive and Ronan's cock dragging maddeningly against his, as they roughly and fiercely and desperately thrust each other towards oblivion. 

Just being two teenage boys in love, not the Magician and the Greywaren.  
  
By the time they were done and panting, the detritus of socks, underwear, jeans and his Aglionby uniform was scattered around the BMW. He’d banged his elbow hard in the process.

 _Fucking hell._ They should just strip as soon as they parked the car, Adam thought to himself, as he gasped in the over-heated air, thick with the smell of their cum and sweat. It’d save a lot of time - and bruises.

He sighed against Ronan’s dewy skin, “I can’t wait for summer. At least we can open the doors and stick our legs out.”

Ronan had picked Adam up from school, for a change.

Which meant that, for only the second time so far, they had fooled around when Adam was in uniform. He needed to be more careful, he thought to himself, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in his trousers. He couldn’t afford cum stains on these clothes.

Adam rolled and unrolled his tie around his fist absently, bare feet propped up on the dashboard, as Ronan drove him back home.

“Hey, you know what?” he said, remembering something that had been on his mind for a while, “We never used this tie that night at Borden House.”

“What?”

“This Aglionby uniform tie. You had it on your ‘list’, very specifically. What did you want to do with it, anyway?”

“Anything,” Ronan shrugged.

Adam looked at him pointedly.

Ronan sighed, as if having to explain the obvious to an idiot, and said in a monotone, “Tie you up. Tie me up. Use it as a blindfold. As a gag. Something to hold on to during sex.”

“Hmm. Well, your hands _were_ tied, even if it wasn’t with the tie.”

“Yeah.”

"Did you like it?"

“Yes, I liked it, if you’re suddenly asking fucking obvious questions.”

“What did you like about it?”

“What the fuck, Parrish? I already gave you the list. We already had the tied-up sex. It was fucking amazing. End of story. Do we really need to paint our nails now and talk about _feelings_?” Ronan sneered.

A year ago, that sneer would have set off Adam’s hair-trigger anger and defensiveness. Especially because Ronan had a real knack for pushing his buttons. Anyone’s buttons, really. Adam’s next words would’ve been: Fuck you, Lynch. And a fight would have suddenly blossomed out of nothing.

But now he knew that Ronan was just embarrassed. And, so, was predictably lashing out. The red tips of his ears would have given that away anyway, if past-Adam had been secure enough in himself to notice. Ronan always gave himself away, if you knew where to look.

Present-Adam, however, knew how to deal with this.

He pointedly stroked his fingers over Ronan’s knuckles on the gear shift, and saw his body language relax immediately.

“Shut up, shithead,” he said instead, “And yeah, we should talk about it, if we’re going to do more stuff like that. Your list was only actions and situations, not to mention in fucking _Latin_. We’ve never spoken about what you want to - feel.”

“What do you mean?”

“You once said you fantasized about me controlling you. Is that what you mean by me tying your hands? Blindfolding you? You want to be controlled?”

“It doesn’t always have to be like that. Sometimes, I could be the one in charge.”

“But why does this turn you on?”

“It’s just…exciting. Not knowing what’s coming. It could be other things besides tying up. Telling me what to do. Doing stuff to me without asking. Punishing me. Stuff like that.”

“Punishing you? For what?”

“Knowing me, I’m sure you could find something. And then you can spank me for it, for being a bad, bad boy,” Ronan grinned crazily at him.

Hearing these words come out of Ronan's mouth was seriously surreal.

“Jesus. This is so fucking weird. Do you _want_ to be spanked?”

“Umm. Yeah,” Ronan’s face looked flushed in the dim light and he was looking straight through the windshield, very deliberately.

Adam stroked his knuckles soothingly again.

“But if you _want_ to be spanked, how is that a punishment? Isn't that a reward, then?”

Ronan was silent. He had obviously not considered this point.

“And why do you like the pain, anyway?”

“It – I don’t know – it feels good.”

“How can pain feel good? It’s, well, it’s _pain_. It’s not _supposed_ to feel good.”

“It makes me feel kind of - new. Refreshed. I don’t know; it’s hard to explain. But I realized it when I got the tattoo.”

Oh. Adam’s mouth shaped itself like the letter. 

“Yeah. It’s one of the reasons I kept sort of adding to it, and made it so dark. First of all, it actually made me feel _something_. I couldn’t feel anything for a while, after my dad died. Then, the pain sort of gave me a high. I felt – I don’t know – cleansed. It was kind of addictive.”

Adam was silent, just digesting this news.

“It happens in religion too,” Ronan continued, “There are some people who want to suffer physically, because it makes them feel closer to God or whatever. Some people in the church wear these spiky garters around their thigh that keeps them in constant pain. It’s meant to be for repentance or atonement or some such shit. But it makes you feel a sort of – bliss – apparently.”

“Wow. Okay, is that part of it, for you? Religion? Redemption?”

“No. It's just that - I get it, y'know? Some of us just have brains that are wired weirdly, I guess.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s just normal biochemistry. There must be this rush of endorphins or whatever, that numbs the pain and gives you a high. Puts you in an altered state or something.”

“I don’t actually care about the fucking science of it, you _nerd_ ,” Ronan rolled his eyes fondly, “I just want something … exciting, unpredictable.”

“So, you don’t want me to tell you what I’m going to do? You don’t want me to ask if it’s okay?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to know. Just – do whatever you want to me.”

“Don’t you want to discuss…stuff that you don’t want me to do?”

“I trust you.”

Ronan said it so simply. It was simple for him. He trusted Adam completely. Between the two of them, though, he was the only one that did.

“So, I can hurt you? And you’d be okay with that?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know you’re not going to, like, break my nose or something. Though it wouldn’t be the first time someone did. But yeah, I know that pretty much anything you do to me, I’m going to be okay with.”

“Fuck, Ronan. That’s - too much responsibility to put on me. I can’t read your fucking mind.”

“Wouldn’t you trust me in the same situation?”

“I would. But that’s different.”

“How is that different?”

“I know – I already know – that you would never do anything to hurt me.”

“So, the problem here is my wanting to feel pain? And you don’t – what? - trust yourself with that?”

“No. I just – don’t like the thought of hurting you. I don’t _want_ to hurt you.”

“You bite me all the fucking time. It hurts like a bitch.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“That’s _sex_. It’s during sex.”

“But you still hurt me. So, you’re okay with stuff that hurts during sex? So, then hurt me during sex. Like, dig your nails into me, pinch me, bite me, slap my ass. Hit me with a riding crop while you’re riding me.”

“Oh my God. Please stop talking,” Adam said in a horrified voice, clutching his head.

They both laughed out loud at the absurdity of what they were talking about.

When they had calmed down, Adam said:

“Okay, listen, I know you want – pain – and I know you want me to choke you and stuff. But, for now, let’s leave all that out of it, okay? How about we just try - me controlling you and telling you what to do? Maybe even punishing you. But without the pain.”

“How’re you going to punish me without pain?”

Adam just smiled, wickedly.

“Well, since you don’t want me to tell you what I’m going to do, you’ll just have to wait and find out.”

Ronan’s breath hitched.

This was going to be fun, Adam thought.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs Adam mentions are:
> 
> \- Untouchable Face by Ani DiFranco from Dilate
> 
> \- Possession by Sarah McLachlan from Mirrorball: Live
> 
> \- We Can’t Be Friends by Lorene Scafaria from Laughter & Forgetting
> 
> \- Something I Can Never Have by Nine Inch Nails from Pretty Hate Machine


	8. Don’t break him, Adam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter checklist: 
> 
> Explicit smut: Check  
> Light d/s: Check  
> Under-negotiated scene: Check  
> Adam Parrish has no chill about anything, including Ronan Lynch and Irish soda bread: Check
> 
> Right, then. We're good to go, folks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated.

This was going to be a disaster, Adam thought.

He had no fucking clue what he was doing. He should never have agreed to this.

Why did he let Ronan talk him into doing stupid shit all the time?

Stupid shit with shopping carts and dollies was one thing. Stupid shit with sex was - completely different. Sex was new enough to Adam, not to mention Ronan, and fucking around with, well, fucking, was…Well, they could be seriously out of their depth. 

The only good part about this so far was that Ronan had dreamed up the healing salve and bath salts Adam had insisted on. Which they’d tried out, with pretty quick (and actually miraculous) results. Ronan’s dreaming such magical things up was seriously still such a mindfuck – a _hot_ mindfuck.

Speaking of hot mindfuckery - Adam had driven himself nearly crazy this whole week, planning what he could do with Ronan.

Would do with Ronan.

To Ronan.

_Fuck._

He needed to calm down, he thought to himself, as he parked carefully next to the locked-wheel-skidded-in BMW.

After constructing increasingly elaborate scenarios in his over-heated mind, he had finally decided to keep it simple. He wasn’t actually confident enough to do anything fancy. And taking it slow might be the smartest way, considering how clueless they both were.

‘ _Don't make anything heavy for dinner’_ was his only hint to Ronan that it was going down tonight.

Now, smelling the delicious aroma of - stew? - coming from the Barns kitchen, he knew that Ronan had taken him at his word. His stomach murmured.

Adam threw his satchel down on the sofa and took off his shoes and socks. 

Ronan had given him a key sometime back, and he'd used it to let himself in. No one would think of locking their doors before dark in this bit of the country, but Ronan was the Greywaren, the Barns was full of priceless dreamstuff and his dad had been killed here. Ironically, it was Niall's killer, Mr. Gray, who had made sure to drum a healthy fear into all of them of being too lax about security.

He padded into the kitchen and was met with the interesting sight of Ronan's hipbones clad in dangerously low-riding sweats and ending in bare feet, while the rest of him was under the sink, swearing fluently.

“What happened?” he said.

“Fucking dreamt garbage disposal,” Ronan's voice came through, hollow and irritated, “It stopped working but there’s nothing inside it to fix.”

“Never mind that; I'm starving. C'mon, let's eat,” Adam nudged him with his foot.

Ronan grunted as he stood up to wash his hands. Adam came up behind him and kissed the back of his neck, wrapping his arms around his solid, warm waist.

“Mmm. Smells good.”

“The stew?”

“That too,” Adam smirked into his skin.

Ronan turned around and rolled his eyes, pulling Adam against his lips for a sound and thorough kiss.

“Hey you,” he said softly, rubbing his nose against Adam's.

“Hey you,” Adam said, just as softly, and then, “Okay, enough of this mush. Let's eat. Let's EAT!”

“Geez, way to give some fucking love to the cook, Parrish. Considering I've been slaving over a hot stove...”

“What rubbish. It probably took you ten minutes to throw this in the pot,” Adam scoffed. Ronan was scarily efficient in the kitchen.

“If it's so easy, you can make it next time, you ungrateful ingrate.”

“Isn't that, like, redundant?” Adam said, serving himself quickly, as his stomach grumbled again.

“It's emphasis. Tautology, actually, since you’re being such a condescending asshole.”

Adam’s clever retort turned into a moan, as he finally put a spoonful of stew in his mouth.

“Oh my God. This is so fucking good. How do you make something like _stew_ taste like this?”

“Magic?” Ronan smirked.

“Well, yeah. I'll believe that.”

The rest of the meal was spent mostly in silence, occasionally kicking each other under the table, because Ronan couldn't just be still and _unprovoking_ , the bastard (though he did make a mean stew). They took turns feeding Chainsaw pieces of the homemade Irish soda bread (the man could make bread too, what the actual fuck. Who made _bread_? Who _made_ bread? Nobody else that Adam knew, for sure).

He was looking at Ronan, as he teased Chainsaw, when he suddenly realised what the roiling in his gut was. He had thought it was hunger, or excitement. 

But he was actually _nervous_. 

Which surprised Adam. He hadn't been nervous about sex with Ronan in so long - not since their first proper time.

Why did he have butterflies in his stomach about tonight, then? It was just them, trying some stuff. It wasn't like anything so bad was going to happen if it didn't work out.

The actual reason he was anxious, Adam realised, was because Ronan was complex as fuck. There were so many different Ronans that Adam dealt with, and at least one of those he wasn’t completely sure about.

18 year-old loose cannon Ronan, with a penchant for stupid antics and a mouth like a nail gun, had never fazed Adam. There was also Ronan the soft boy, who held baby mice against his cheek, whom Adam was fiercely protective of. Then came Ronan the Creator. Adam was in awe of this ability, yes, but he was also the Magician. The Magician and the Greywaren were not an unequal match.

But the part of Ronan that he would be coming up against tonight was Ronan the sex god, as Adam secretly referred to him in his mind.

This was Ronan in his avatar of the drop dead gorgeous man. Effortlessly cool. Smoking hot. As perfectly formed as a thoroughbred racehorse.

Adam was a bit intimidated by this side of Ronan, if he was being completely honest.

This was the kind of man Adam had cut out pictures of, had wanted to be, had joined Aglionby because of. Beautiful and powerful and totally comfortable in his own skin.

But this Ronan was also a highly sensual creature, with a voracious appetite for new thrills in bed.

In other words, a sex god.

And Adam didn't exactly consider himself consort-of-a-sex-god material. He was a scientist and a pragmatist - a minimalist, even.

Still clawing his way up Maslow's hierarchy of needs.

Needs that had always driven him towards 'finish' rather than 'enjoy', focused on the goal and not the journey. So, when it came to sex, he usually took the freeway to pleasure - ugly and concrete and direct, while Ronan took the walking trail – picturesque and winding and untamed.

Often, for Ronan, foreplay seemed as good as orgasm. He was happy just licking this cluster of freckles or biting this bit of lower back or stroking this crease on Adam’s wrist, focused and unhurried, until Adam thought he would be driven mad with desire and impatience.

And this Ronan also had some ...interesting... ideas about sex, apparently. Ideas that Adam would never have thought of by himself.

Considering Ronan hadn't kissed anyone till he was 18, he’d sure made up for lost time. He seemed to have an animal, carnal instinct guiding him, which Adam lacked.

Adam had separated himself from his bodily impulses, denied them for too long – pain, sleep, hunger, comfort - to be able to wallow in hedonism. To know how to explore and navigate it instinctively.

At times like this, it became clear that their approach to pleasure was very different. Because _they_ were very different. And came from very different places.

Ronan was homemade bread and sleepy valleys and gilded religion and Irish music. Adam was grown from the dirt-coated, white trash barrenness of the trailer park’s petri dish. Any day Adam hadn’t gotten whacked was a good day.

Yes, he was out of there now and he would be even farther away from Hickville-Henrietta soon. But if your gene-pool had scum on it, you carried that around with you everywhere, for the rest of your life.

He suddenly remembered the pictures he had seen taped up in Ronan's dad’s office (now Ronan's office). And how they compared with the pictures Robert Parrish had put up in _his_ office. And he marvelled again at Ronan's interest in him.

Adam Parrish was the mongrel Hondayota, trying to keep up with Ronan Lynch's purebred BMW. 

It was a fucking joke.

Pedigree absolutely counted.

Well, hopefully tonight wouldn't be a fucking joke, Adam thought, sighing a little bit. Tonight would be a pilot study, the proof of concept of how much he could meet and match Ronan's cravings as a lover. 

He hoped it would be enough - for now, at least.

A light kick on his ankle pulled him out of his reverie. He looked up, startled, and saw that he was being watched, by both Chainsaw and her creator. When their eyes met, Ronan raised a finely formed eyebrow in inquiry. He was all stark, elegant lines, like calligraphy made human. Something hollow inside Adam ached with longing.

Adam smiled slightly in response and shook his head: _nothing_. But they both knew it wasn't true.

When they had cleared up, Ronan led him by the hand and pushed him onto the couch. Then he straddled Adam and kissed him hungrily, like _he_ was the one who had been starving.

Adam held Ronan's strong, beautiful body in his arms and just allowed himself to have this. He let Ronan’s adoring touches and transparent desire soothe his insecurities, internally swooning from the perfection of it all.

The rightness of returning from work, coming home to the Barns, to Ronan and Chainsaw (and Opal, though she wasn't here). Being fed a delicious, home-cooked meal. And then being seduced on the living room couch by the man he loved, who also happened to be the hottest person he had ever met in his life.

Adam could definitely do this forever. For the rest of his life, at least.

He exhaled, finally relaxing, and ran his hands under Ronan's tank, scratching his nails down the unseen tattoo. Ronan ground his hips down hard against his and they both moaned into each other’s mouths. 

“Fuck, Ronan,” Adam gasped.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what you’ve got planned for tonight,” Ronan said, mouthing at his neck breathlessly, as he rolled his hips again, “It’s driving me crazy.”

“Yeah, me too,” Adam said, pulling off Ronan’s top in one swift move and wrapping his lips wetly around a sensitive nipple.

“Shit,” Ronan hissed, as he dug his fingers into Adam's hair, scratching along his scalp, “We should really take the edge off.” 

Adam hummed around the pink nub, agreeing wholeheartedly.

Soon, they were both lying on their sides, pants tugged down and mouths wrapped around cocks.

This was a position Adam was still getting the hang of. There were too many – variables – for a perfectionist like him. Too many sensations for a formerly-touch-starved creature to handle.

It was the most fun Adam had ever had trying to multitask.

He moaned around Ronan as he felt him press his nose against Adam's tight balls. Adam tried to focus on syncing up their rhythms, excruciatingly aware of everything. Of Ronan’s hot, wet mouth on him and Ronan’s large, heavy cock on his tongue and Ronan’s tight, wet heat clenching around his spit-slicked finger.

The feel and smell and taste of Ronan, Ronan, _Ronan_ everywhere was overwhelming. Oh God, Adam never wanted this to end, but he couldn’t take it much longer.

Adam felt Ronan press against his perineum. He pushed his finger deeper into Ronan and speeded up his sucking. And then lost all ability to think.

They lay panting for a while afterwards, mouths tasting of each other's musk and wet lips pressed against trembling thighs. Adam kissed Ronan’s hipbone softly and took a deep breath.

It was time to get this show on the road.

Once they’d locked up the Barns.

By the time they reached their bedroom, there was a trail of clothes on the stairs. They had taken turns roughly pushing each other against walls and railings and doorframes, and attacking each other with mouths and hands. Their urgency was incredible, considering they had both come just a short while ago.

Their hunger for each other was always like this, though - dry tinder, catching from the slightest spark. They finally ended up wrapped around each other, naked, in front of the bed.

“Okay,” Adam gasped, pushing away from Ronan with a final burst of self-control, “We’re going to do this, right?”

“Only if you want to,” Ronan said, stroking his clenched jawline gently, “You don’t have to stress out so much, Parrish. It’s not a fucking exam that you have to get an A+ on. We can just have sex and forget this whole thing.”

“No. I want to try,” Adam said mulishly, “Okay, so, we’re doing this, but we need to agree on a few things. One. We can stop any time, right? We say Wait or Stop, and everything stops.” 

“Yes,” said Ronan, rolling his eyes.

“Two, I’m not gonna hurt you. But you might not like everything that happens. This is not a competition. If something doesn’t feel good, don’t be an idiot and keep going just to prove a point, okay?”

“Jesus, okay. Can we just get on with the doing, instead of always with the goddamned talking?”

“Three,” Adam said, sternly.

Ronan rolled his eyes so hard, he must’ve hurt himself.

“Three,” Adam caught his chin in his hand, so Ronan was looking at him.

“Yes, okay, three,” Ronan said in the most petulant, juvenile voice he could manage.

“Three,” Adam said looking into his eyes, “I love you. It won't seem like it. But, don’t forget that, okay?”

“I know,” Ronan's tone softened as he ran his knuckles along Adam’s cheekbone, “I love you too.”

They kissed again, getting lost in each other’s mouths. Adam was very tempted to just forget the whole thing, because this was so easy, so familiar. So good. But he wasn't going to be the one to back down. He pulled away, breathing hard, and said:

“Seriously, you can stop anytime Ronan, okay?”

“Fucking hell, Parrish. Stop being so doom and gloom. I asked for this okay? I can handle it.”

Adam was silent. He wished he could tell Ronan everything he had planned, so at least they could _both_ be prepared for what was coming. Except Ronan didn't want to know. Dammit.

“That’s it,” Ronan said, losing patience, “If you don’t want to do this, let’s forget it.”

“Be quiet.”

“What?” Ronan sounded surprised.

“Be. Quiet.” said Adam, soft but firm, putting his thumb on Ronan’s lips and holding his chin. He looked into his eyes, calm and certain.

“Be quiet,” he repeated, “You don’t get to speak until I tell you to, okay? Nod if you understand.”

Ronan's expression was startled, as he suddenly realised what was happening. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

The game was on.

“You don’t get to speak until I ask you a question, okay?” Adam repeated, “Nod if you understand.”

Ronan nodded against Adam's thumb.

“Good,” Adam stroked over his lips softly.

Ronan's eyes closed for a beat.

“The only words you can say are Wait and Stop. Say the words now.”

“Wait and stop,” Ronan intoned, rolling his eyes slightly.

Adam pushed his thumb into Ronan's mouth and hooked it hard over his lower jaw.

“You’re lucky I hadn’t finished going over the rules,” he said softly, against Ronan’s ear, “because if you roll your eyes at me again, I am going to be – disappointed.” He hissed the word right into Ronan's ear, and felt Ronan shiver. “If I don’t get your total respect and obedience tonight, I will be _very_ disappointed, Ronan. And you don’t want to disappoint me, okay?”

Ronan nodded, eyes wide at Adam’s tone.

“If you disappoint me, you’re going to get punished even more. And you won’t like it. Do you understand?”

Nod.

He took his thumb out of Ronan’s mouth and asked, “Are you going to be good for me, Ronan?”

“Yes,” Ronan rasped out, quiet and shuddering.

“If you obey, I’ll give you things you like, okay? Like this,” Adam stoked his cheek with one hand and slid his thumb back inside Ronan's mouth. Ronan closed his eyes and licked with a tremulous tongue.

“Stop,” he said, and Ronan stopped at once.

They were both getting the hang of this.

Good.

Maybe it wasn’t going to be a complete fucking disaster.

Adam took a deep breath, tamped down the inner voice that was mocking him for the ridiculousness of what he was doing, and just – switched himself off.

Became someone else.

Someone who was going to control Ronan tonight, do whatever he wanted to Ronan tonight.

Punish Ronan tonight.

And he was doing it _for_ him.

Which is why he was going to be completely committed to this. Buy into it one hundred percent. Because it was all about Ronan.

 _Here we go_ , thought Adam.

Using his thumb as anchor, he pushed down on Ronan's jaw and said, “Kneel.”

Ronan knelt immediately, on the thankfully thick carpet, looking up at Adam through his sinfully pretty eyelashes.

“You are only going to do the things I give you permission to do, okay?”

Nod.

He realised Ronan was holding his breath.

“You can breathe normally.”

Ronan let out a long, gusty sigh. Adam felt the rush of hot air against his thumb. His entire skin felt over-sensitised.

He continued, “You can make noises. But not words. Unless they are Wait and Stop. If you can’t speak, tap out with your hand or leg and I’ll stop.”

Nod.

“You cannot touch me, unless I tell you to.”

Yes.

“And you cannot come, until I tell you to.”

Ronan stilled.

Adam pushed down gently with his thumb, still hooked over Ronan's teeth.

“Do you understand? You cannot come until I tell you to. You have no choice in this matter. You will not be able to come, until I give you permission, okay?”

Ronan nodded slowly, eyes glazing over for a moment.

“You will not touch your cock. You will not let your cock touch anything. Not me. Not even the bed.”

Nod.

“I am going to do whatever I want with you.”

Nod. Deep exhale.

“And I am going to punish you tonight, because you did something that disappointed me. I’ll tell you what it is, but you are going to get taught a lesson, so you don’t repeat it.”

Ronan gave a little shiver, and a jolt zinged straight to Adam’s cock at his response.

"You’ve been very good so far, Ronan,” he said, “I'm pleased with you. So, I'm going to give you another reward.”

Adam removed his thumb from Ronan's mouth and replaced it with three of his fingers.

He told Ronan, “Suck.”

Ronan immediately closed his eyes and put his hands on Adam's wrist.

“Wait.”

Ronan froze.

“I did not say you could touch me,” Adam said.

Ronan dropped his hands immediately.

“Cross your hands behind your back. This is your only warning.”

Ronan nodded. His thighs were trembling now; his cock hard and dark.

"Now, suck, until I tell you to stop."

With his hands crossed behind his back, Ronan’s bobbed his head back and forth over Adam's knuckles, his tongue stroking wetly from the bottom. He closed his eyes and moaned blissfully.

Little jolts were running to Adam’s groin, more to do with how Ronan was moaning than the sensations from him suckling.

"Stop."

Ronan immediately moved his head away.

Adam stroked his cheek with fingers wet with Ronan's spit, and asked gently, “Did you like your reward?”

Ronan nodded and rasped out, "Yes."

“If you’re good for me, I'll let you have more, okay?”

Nod.

“Open your mouth.”

Ronan immediately obeyed.

Adam put his hand on the back of Ronan's head, gripped it tight and placed the weight of his cock on Ronan’s tongue. He slid it back and forth gently, rubbing his slit along the trembling pink muscle.

As he pulled his dick away, a long strand of saliva and precum glistened between them, beautiful in its vulgarity. They both watched, rapt, until it broke and vanished.

Ronan swallowed thickly and licked his lips. 

Their eyes met.

This look was not part of the game. This was real.

Adam’s eyes asked: _Are you sure? Do you want me to continue?_

Ronan’s expression was clear and present, as the ghost of a smile crossed his face.

And he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out again.

A challenge and an invitation at the same time: _Let’s have an adventure together, Parrish_.

Adam smiled back at him and felt himself helplessly tumbling into love all over again. How much Ronan had changed in this one year, Adam thought, running his thumb over a sharp cheekbone.

Looking at Ronan, alive and electric, offering himself with no reservations, something in Adam shifted.

He had been willing to do this mostly because Ronan had wanted it.

But like all the crazy things Ronan enticed him to do, a part of Adam wanted it too. Ronan consistently pushed him out of his comfort zone, and Adam discovered something new about himself each time.

Whatever tiny piece of himself Adam had been holding apart was swept away. He accepted the power. He was going take the pleasure that Ronan gifted him so freely. Was going to take what Ronan wanted him to have - complete control.

He breathed in, calm and light. He was totally invested now; completely focused.

Adam fed his cock slowly into Ronan’s open mouth, until he was buried to the hilt. He pulled Ronan closer to his body as he stroked his head lovingly, feeling himself pressed all the way in. Ronan struggled to breathe through his nose, which was pushed hard against Adam's groin.

It was an intimate, trusting embrace.

“Hold still,” Adam said, briefly.

And began to fuck into Ronan's mouth.

This was not the first time they had done this. But it never failed to amaze Adam how pliant and willing Ronan became, even as Adam was hitting the back of his throat.

“God, Ronan – your mouth. _Fuck,_ ” Adam hissed.

Spit ran down Ronan’s chin and the wet, slurping sounds he made showed that he was possibly getting more pleasure out of this than Adam was – and that thought alone was almost enough to do Adam in.

“Jesus. Stop!” he pulled away from Ronan hurriedly. 

Ronan looked blurrily confused at Adam’s sudden order and retreat. It must’ve seemed like a rejection, Adam realised suddenly. _Dammit._ He needed to be more focused. Ronan trusted him to be in control of both of them.

“It wasn’t you Ronan. You were perfect,” Adam said softly, stroking his face and kissing him on the forehead briefly, “You were so good that I was almost going to come. And I don’t want to come in your mouth."

"I’m going to come in your ass,” he put his mouth close to Ronan's ear for the last bit.

Ronan shuddered, whether in response to Adam’s breath or words or the anticipation, Adam didn’t know. All of it, possibly.

“You were wonderful, Ronan. You’re being so good for me,” Adam held Ronan’s jaw at an almost painful upward angle, and kissed him hard. He towered over Ronan kneeling at his feet. 

Ronan's mouth was open and languid, allowing Adam to take whatever he wanted. But his hands were clenched into fists behind his back, so as not to touch.

God, Adam couldn’t wait to fuck this boy into a begging mess.

He pulled away and said breathlessly to Ronan, “Get on the bed and lie on your back. Spread your legs.”

As he watched Ronan scramble up and move to the bed, limping slightly from the blood rushing back to his feet, he put a hand around his cock and squeezed. He wasn’t going to last very long.

Luckily, for once, that was not going to be a problem.

Adam got a few things together and knelt over Ronan.

“What are the two words you can say?”

Ronan cleared his throat before answering, voice rough: “Wait. Stop.”

“Good.”

Without warning, Adam pushed a lubed digit all the way into him.

Ronan arched his neck and groaned loudly, almost in the shape of something meaningful. 

“Careful,” Adam hissed between clenched teeth. “No words, okay? You don’t want me to stop, do you?”

Ronan shook his head, _no_ , with a tinge of desperation. His eyes were closed tight and head thrown back. He had gripped the headboard hard to keep from touching Adam. Or maybe himself.

Adam carefully opened Ronan up around his fingers – careful because his instinct was always to find Ronan’s prostate, but this time he was pointedly avoiding it.

He really did not want to set Ronan up for failure.

So he stayed hyper-focused on Ronan’s face and body and breathing, seeing how far he could push him. It was like their first ‘proper’ time all over again (Adam really needed to figure out what to call it).

As Adam prodded his hole with a wet second finger, Ronan’s gasps grew in desperation. This would have been when Ronan would've started swearing in earnest or saying Adam’s name helplessly or mixing up the two.

But he'd been told that he couldn’t speak. And he was obeying.

It deserved a reward, so Adam leaned forward and captured Ronan’s mouth, cutting him off mid-moan. He lay down next to Ronan and kept kissing him through a third finger, until Ronan was groaning too much to kiss. He was very close to begging.

Adam really wanted to hear Ronan say please again and again and again (not a common occurrence), but now wasn't the time or the place for it – yet.

He gave Ronan’s lower lip a last, lingering bite and moved to kneel between his thighs. He spread them wide and high.

Adam’s gaze snagged on Ronan’s half-closed one for a charged, crystal-sharp minute. And then he slid into him.

Adam watched himself shallowly move in and out of Ronan, giving them both time to adjust. He felt the moment when Ronan relaxed around him, as he let out a loud sigh and seemed to sink into the mattress. And Adam speeded up

As Adam fucked into him, he again concentrated on thrusting in a way that was not his usual angle. And unlike what he always did, he didn’t try to distract himself. For once, he didn't need to hold back or make this last as long as possible. That was not part of his plan tonight.

It wouldn't take much for him to lose control, Adam knew. All he had to do was focus on exactly what he was doing right now; think about it in a way he never allowed himself to.

He was controlling Ronan Lynch, of all people, fucking him hard in his tight hot ass, minutes away from filling him with his cum…Jesus _fucking_ Christ.

Adam clenched his jaw and snapped his hips faster, gripping Ronan’s knees tightly. Ronan yelled out defiantly at the added stimulation and clenched, and Adam climaxed suddenly, with a grunted ‘ _Oh fuck’_. He stilled his hips and came as deep inside Ronan as he could. 

He probably hadn't lasted two whole minutes. It was like his first time all over again.

As he caught his breath, he lowered Ronan's legs but held onto his thighs, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

Ronan whined as he felt him softening.

The sound almost broke Adam.

Every part of him was screaming at him to touch Ronan’s cock, prettily flushed and leaking. To wrap his hands or lips around the thick meat of it, and feel the throb of Ronan's blessed release.

Until this moment, Adam hadn’t realised how important Ronan’s orgasm was to him.

Ronan in the throes of climax was a beautiful thing to behold – so male and muscular and magnificent. He exploded with his whole body and spirit: strong and authentic and euphoric, all at once.

And the biggest thrill was that it happened because of Adam.

Adam hungrily anticipated the moment he made Ronan finally fall apart. He loved that he had a front-row seat to it. To watching Ronan come undone right in front of him – under him – around him.

Walking away now was going against every primal instinct Adam possessed.

But, this was for Ronan too. 

_Stop being such a sap, Parrish,_ he told himself sternly.

He took a deep breath, and moved up to kiss Ronan, taking care to keep well away from his cock. Ronan had split his bottom lip while biting it, and Adam licked the angry red mark soothingly.

Adam looked into lust-hazed blue eyes and waited until Ronan focused on him a bit.

“You can't come, Ronan. This is your punishment. I’ll tell you why soon.”

Ronan nodded his head helplessly, lips pressed tight together.

Adam circled Ronan’s leaking cock lightly, and took some clear precum onto his finger. He swiped it around a pink, sensitive nipple and bent his head and suckled on it.

Holy _fuck_ , the taste of Ronan on his tongue…

Ronan arched his back with a whimper, pushing his chest into Adam’s mouth. He gripped the bedclothes above his head with white-knuckled hands.

Adam slid two fingers into Ronan and kissed him filthily.

Ronan’s ass was as soft and open as his mouth - and just as wet.

A vicious jolt of pleasure flushed hot over Adam's body, as he felt his cum slicking Ronan up on the inside. He pumped shallowly into him, thrilling at how Ronan writhed around on his fingers, like a fish caught on a hook.

 _Oh God_ , it was almost unbearable. If Ronan had begged him right then, Adam would’ve thrown this entire game out of the window.

“You’ve been so good for me, Ronan. I’m so pleased with you,” he praised breathlessly into Ronan’s ear, as he stroked his rim gently. Ronan’s head was turned to the side as he moaned, rocking back and forth mindlessly, teeth biting into his bicep hard enough to break skin.

Adam knew that Ronan was very, very close to coming. He was quite capable of losing control just from Adam’s fingers inside him on a regular day. This must be torture for him.

“If you continue to be good for me, I'll give you more things you'll like, okay?” he promised, as he softly kissed behind an ear.

Ronan looked at Adam fuzzily then and breathed out an assenting whimper.

Adam kissed him lovingly on his cheek one last time, and got up.

He stood at the foot of the bed and looked down at Ronan, spread across the mattress, wrecked and flushed and panting. The knuckles of one hand were red and raw from being stuffed into his mouth. A bruise was forming on the underside of his bicep, caused by his own teeth. Liquid from his dick was pooling on his stomach.

Adam's mouth watered.

But all he said was: “Don’t move”.

And then left the room.

  
*


	9. ... break him, Adam.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys' ex-pli-cit scene concludes. Though the play is light, the feels aren’t. 
> 
> TW in the end notes: please read first if you have concerns about the content or triggers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter count has gone up to 15 (so far). 
> 
> It's my first long(ish) fic, so I'm learning as I go. Thanks for understanding! :)

Adam got cleaned up and walked back into the bedroom, still very naked, having picked up some Gatorade from the kitchen.

He didn’t even walk around St. Agnes in the nude, even when he was alone. But when Opal was gone, and their usual weekend debauchery was underway at the Barns, Adam wasn’t the least bit self-conscious, surprisingly. And it just seemed stupid to put clothes on, only to have to take them off again. And again.

And, well - when in Rome. Because Ronan had started it.

Ronan…who hadn’t moved. Just like Adam had ordered.

He was lying on the bed in exactly the same position as before. He’d gone a bit soft but that would change soon enough. And for once, Adam didn’t try to clean him up; there was no point. He planned to make a mess of Ronan again – more than once, hopefully. Until Adam was exhausted or Ronan absolutely needed to come, whichever came first.

It had taken some – creative – thinking to come up with the ‘punishment’ of not allowing Ronan to come. Everything Adam could think of along those lines involved hurt or cruelty in some way. Plus, things like spanking (just the thought of the word in connection with _Ronan’s ass_ provoked a visceral reaction in Adam – good or bad, he wasn’t sure), or other kinds of pain, seemed to be something Ronan actually _wanted_ , which defeated the purpose of a punishment. So, he had finally settled on not allowing Ronan to orgasm until he said so. It served two purposes: it would be proof of Adam’s ‘control’ over him and it should actually dissuade Ronan from breaking the ‘rules’ going forward (you couldn’t have punishment without rules, in Adam’s opinion; otherwise what were you punishing someone _for_?)

Adam took a few sips of the Gatorade and climbed onto the bed, as Ronan watched. He held up the bottle and said, “You didn’t move. Good. Now, open your mouth.”

He watched the blue liquid, making the white of his teeth starker, stream into Ronan’s mouth as he poured. He watched his throat as he swallowed, watched his glistening tongue come out to lick pink lips. _Damn_. Every single thing about Ronan was sexy.

Adam breathed in deeply. He’d promised Ronan he’d punish him. He’d also told Ronan he’d give him things he would like, if he was good.

It was time for Act 2, then.

Once they were done drinking, Adam put the bottle away and straddled Ronan’s torso. He wriggled around a bit, ostensibly to get comfortable but actually because he was enjoying himself.

Ronan watched him piercingly the whole time, eyes more black than ice. Adam usually really, really loved the hotness of his boyfriend’s molten stare, especially when it was focused on him, like now.

But there was bit too much of an edge to his gaze for Adam to ignore. Whatever fuzzy, pliant mood Ronan was in earlier had gone. Adam needed to get it back, for his plan to work.

He crossed Ronan's wrists above his head and held on tight with one hand. With his other, he angled Ronan’s jaw sharply as he bent over him.

“You know you’re being punished, right? Do you know why?”

“No.” Ronan voice was low but with the slightest ironic bite to it.

Hmm, Ronan was getting his attitude back. Adam definitely needed to make him more - acquiescent.

Maybe he should tie Ronan’s hands up right away? That might make him more … amenable … to Adam’s suggestions. Maybe ‘fingers in mouth’ would too, knowing Ronan.

No, Adam decided; he wanted to do this by himself, without depending on anything else. He wanted to _earn_ it.

Adam put his thumb on Ronan’s chin and pressed down. He looked into Ronan’s eyes and said, softly and dangerously, “What did I tell you about total respect tonight, Ronan? You want to not come at _all_? Because that can definitely be arranged.”

He stroked Ronan’s bottom lip with his thumb and waited.

Ronan was silent.

There was no way Ronan would give an inch or make it easy for him, no matter how much he _wanted_ Adam to control him. That wasn’t how their relationship worked. Also, Ronan wouldn’t - or couldn’t - lie, especially right now. He was at his most authentic during sex. And, Adam suspected, what they were about to do couldn’t _be_ faked anyway.

He would need to _prove_ his mastery over Ronan. And many people had tried, and failed, to get Ronan Lynch to listen to them. As far as Adam knew, only Gansey, and maybe Matthew, had succeeded with any consistency - both in very different ways. The common denominator seemed to be love and ‘like’, though. Well, that was something Ronan and he had plenty of - together with lust. So, theoretically, getting Ronan to listen should not be too difficult for Adam.

Theoretically.

Adam licked a hard stripe from Ronan’s jaw to his temple, simultaneously proprietary and imperious. Just because he could. Just because he wanted to. He felt the rasp of Ronan’s stubble on his tongue.

“I asked you a question,” he whispered against his ear, “You want to _not_ come tonight?”

“No,” Ronan said finally, voice a little bit breathless now, “No. I want to come.”

First victory, thought Adam, a little smug.

“Then what do you need to show me?”

A beat.

Then: “Total respect.”

“Very good. And?”

“Total obedience.”

“Yes. You didn’t show me total respect just now, did you?”

Ronan swallowed. “No.”

“So, what should you say, Ronan?”

Mutinous silence.

This was going to be the pivotal point, Adam knew.

He was pushing Ronan to do something he would probably do only on pain of death. Actually, not even then perhaps. He only ever said it once or twice, when he had really hurt Adam and wanted to make things right. And he would never say it because someone _told_ him to.

But this – this was a different kind of game tonight.

Adam stroked his cheek, in a mockery of soothing. And they both knew it.

“It’s just good manners, Ronan. And I guess I’m gonna have to teach you some tonight. What d’you say when you’ve disobeyed me?”

They looked at each other.

Adam forced himself to stare unflinchingly into Ronan’s eyes, and counted out calm breaths. But he could feel his heart galloping in his chest. He was sure Ronan could feel it too.

 _Jesus._ Maybe this was what lion tamers felt like.

Or snake charmers.

It was the most electrifying drawn-out moment ever.

They were teetering on the precipice of the tallest cliff. The waves went silent on the shore below them. The whole world stopped spinning and held its breath.

The only thing that existed was this push and pull of energy between them.

“What d’you say when you’ve done something wrong, Ronan?” Adam repeated.

Still nothing.

It was a war of wills.

And Adam had a horrible feeling he might lose the battle. Not just tonight. It would also mean he had failed at giving Ronan what he wanted in terms of crazy sex antics, probably. Just like Adam had feared.

 _Shit._ What should he do now? He mentally reviewed his options (making sure his face masked his slight sense of panic). How could he make Ronan yield - and apologise?

Adam was still…missing something, though he didn’t know what. It felt like he was blindly groping for the next hand-hold. And that didn't - _feel_ right.

For all that he was a logical animal and weighed everything to a nicety in the scales of his priorities and resources, Adam Parrish ultimately navigated by instinct.

Like deciding to join Aglionby after months of calculating, just because of the Ronan-looking boy at the store. Stealing the Pig and driving to Cabeswater and sacrificing his hands and eyes to it, because - and it had been so clear to him then, despite Gansey’s incomprehension – that was the only _right_ way it could have happened.

He steered by an innate knowledge of the ‘proper’ orientation of something, the final shape of it, of what it _should_ look like.

Like with Cabeswater’s ley line work.

And suddenly, Adam understood. He was looking at this all wrong, approaching it backwards.

He was not going to win against Ronan - because he didn’t _need_ to. There was no battle of wills here.

It was just this: Adam _knowing_ that Ronan would obey.

It was as simple as that.

Just like on that fateful day when the demon possessed him. Claiming ownership of his hands and eyes had banished its control over them, over him. It hadn’t been a choice or a decision. It was already a reality. He had just needed to realise it.

It was the same certainty he felt now. He already had this power. He didn’t know if Ronan had given it to him at some point, or if he’d always had it. Either way, there was nothing he needed to earn now, no will he needed to exercise. All he had to do was say it, and Ronan would do it. To even _entertain_ any other possibility was … ludicrous.

He didn't know what changed in that moment of insight, whether it was his breathing or his body language or energy. But, whatever it was-

\- something _shifted_ behind Ronan’s eyes.

He felt something indefinable click into place between them.

And Adam inhaled, savouring this moment of incredible power.

Because, Ronan was going to cave.

And Ronan –

\- Ronan knew it too.

 _Ronan Lynch_ was going to submit.

To him.

 _Adam Parrish_.

The thrill of it was…indescribable.

Ronan cleared his throat and licked his lips.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking, unused to saying the words.

The taste of Ronan’s _surrender_ was like a drug on Adam’s tongue. He was hooked.

His cock began to thicken against Ronan’s sternum.

He kept Ronan pinned with his hands and his gaze and said, “Say it again. Properly.”

“I’m sorry, Adam.”

“And you’re gonna be good for me?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Adam said, patting his cheek condescendingly, “Now, you listened to me when I told you not to move. I’m happy about that. So, you’re still being punished, but I’m gonna give you something you’ll like.”

Adam took two of Ronan’s Aglionby ties that he’d rescued from the floor of the wardrobe and knotted together. He tied Ronan’s wrists above his head, and attached the other end to the headboard slats. He wanted to be able to flip Ronan around when needed.

Sitting as he was, high on Ronan’s chest, he felt Ronan’s breaths deepen until he was nearly panting. Adam could feel the hot puffs of air on his stomach. Adam’s cock was almost as excited.

He tested the knots and how much give there was to the length. When he was happy with it, he shuffled down till he was straddling Ronan’s diaphragm again. He left a trail of precum along Ronan’s flushed skin.

“What’re the words if you want out again?”

“Wait and stop,” Ronan croaked out. 

“You wanna use any of them now?”

Ronan’s eyes were closed as he shook his head. _No_.

Seeing Ronan tied to the bed _(Christ)_ and at his mercy was just a mind-blowing visual. Adam could see the blue veins on his muscled arms, stretched out helplessly above his head. Wrists bound with an Aglionby tie.

He understood now why Ronan had wanted that so much. The contrast between the ‘properness’ of their uniform tie, with all its associations, and what they were actually using it _for_ was just – oh God – unbelievably indecent.

Adam leaned down and said, “You like this?”

Ronan nodded, eyes dark and stormy. Looking at Adam like he was a…miracle.

When it was Ronan Lynch who was the actual-to-God miracle.

Adam kissed him then, because to not do so was unthinkable. Soon enough though, their kiss was threatening to get out of control, and Ronan was straining against his bonds. Fuck, that was so _hot_.

Adam needed to focus, dammit. He had a plan for tonight.

“I’m going to tell you why you’re being punished, Ronan,” he gasped, tearing himself away from Ronan’s seductive mouth, “Why you disappointed me.”

He felt Ronan draw in a deep breath in anticipation.

“I’m not happy with you, Ronan, because -” he let the pause continue for a long beat “– you didn’t put everything on that list that you gave me.”

Adam could see the surprise dawn in Ronan’s eyes.

“I asked you to give me a list of everything that turned you on, all your fantasies. You said you did – I mean it was in Latin, and it wasn’t specific - but you said everything important was on it.”

Whatever Ronan had been expecting, it was clearly not this.

He continued, “But then I find out that you didn’t tell me you fantasised about us in Boyd’s. Or in the Latin classroom. And there’s probably more stuff that’ll come up slowly.”

Ronan had said to Adam that, knowing him, there would be something Adam could find to punish him for. And Adam had thought it wouldn’t be easy. Why on earth would he ever _punish_ Ronan? But surprisingly, the situation had popped into his head immediately. Like it was already queued up.

Ronan opened his mouth to respond, and Adam cut him off.

“I didn’t say you could speak,” he said, calmly, “Just listen.”

Ronan’s expression was – complicated. Adam could guess why he had edited that list. It was to keep things do-able and within the realms of possibility, perhaps. Ronan had never expected to actually have sex in either of those places. But Adam had said to tell him _everything_ , no matter how crazy.

“You lied, Ronan, to _me_. You said the list was complete, but it wasn't. I trusted you,” Adam said, a little bit of the genuine hurt he felt edging itself into his voice, “and you let me down.”

And he was going to make sure Ronan knew it was not okay to lie by omission again. At least not to _him_.

“Do you see why I'm not happy with you?”

“Yes,” Ronan said, on an exhale.

“Tell me.”

“Because you told me to put everything on that list, and I didn’t.

“And?”

“Because I said I did.”

“So, this is a rule, okay? If you tell me you’re gonna do something, you do it properly.”

“Okay.”

Adam was pleasantly surprised at how immediately Ronan agreed…obeyed. Something _had_ changed with Ronan tonight.

“And if you tell me about something, you won’t keep stuff back.”

“Yes.”

“If you don’t do either of these things, you'll confess it to me yourself. _Knowing_ you'll be punished. Okay?”

Ronan’s _‘Okay’_ was a bit breathless this time.

“Good,” Adam kissed his neck softly. Then, quick and neat, he slid a sleep mask over his eyes, as Ronan made a high, surprised noise.

He’d found the mask in a drawer full of odds and ends in the living room. It was cushioned black, with a frill of lace.

“You get this because I’m pleased with you, Ronan,” Adam deliberately puffed air into his ear, loving Ronan’s open mouthed gasp at the sensation, “Can you see anything?” Ronan didn’t reply, and Adam realised he was too lost in his own darkened world.

“Ronan,” he said louder, “Can you see anything?”

Ronan’s ‘No’ was almost sub-vocal. He was _definitely_ breathless now.

“You want to wait or stop?” Adam asked, mouthing soft along a winged collarbone.

Ronan shook his head desperately.

“D’you think you can still go without speaking? Only sounds?” Adam punctuated the words with tiny bites and licks along Ronan’s neck.

“Yes,” Ronan gasped out.

Adam held his bound wrists in his hands, even though it was unnecessary, and said firmly, “So. You’re all tied up and blindfolded. You ain’t goin’ anywhere. And you can’t come till I let you, right?”

“Nnngh,” Ronan whined desperately, mouth open, nodding his tipped-up head. Adam knew his naked accent was part of the turn-on.

He took a deep breath against Ronan's ear, not knowing what words were going to come out of his mouth next, but trusting they would be the right ones. Because he was getting the hang of this thing now (maybe Ronan wasn’t the only person who had changed tonight).

“I’m gonna do whatever I want with you, Ronan. And you can’t do anything about it. You’re gonna just lie here and _take_ it. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, and you’re gonna be grateful for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Ronan’s panting was full blown now.

“You wanna call this off?” he said, kissing an earlobe.

“Nooo,” Ronan pleaded. Like it would kill him if Adam stopped now.

Adam felt a little like that, too, as he kissed Ronan a bit desperately.

After that, it was as if he was looking at the world through a lens, where the only thing in focus was Ronan. Everything else was blurred around the edges of his vision, but each single hair of Ronan’s stubble stood out in high clarity.

Adam turned Ronan onto his side, so he could suck dark marks along his tattoo. He moved down, leaving a trail that would turn bruised skin the colours of ripe figs for days to come. A map of his pilgrimage along Ronan’s body.

Adam re-learnt Ronan from a new perspective, as gasps and shivers transferred sensation to lips and hands and tongue. Rolling Ronan onto his back, Adam licked along the roads of veins and made patterns with his teeth around lines of bone and muscle and tendon, avoiding his cock carefully. He understood now how Ronan could be so focused on a single inch of trembling skin.

He realised that Ronan could tell where he was going next by Adam’s breath on his body, just before his lips touched him. So, to keep Ronan guessing, Adam sometimes exhaled tantalisingly on goose-bumped skin and just – moved on, without touching it. Sometimes he held his breath before suddenly bringing a wet mouth down on Ronan’s unsuspecting body, until his gasps blended into one long, desperate sound.

He should really give Ronan a blow job while he was blindfolded, Adam thought. Or a hand job. With Ronan’s hand fixation, one was as good at the other. He teased Ronan, bringing a finger near his lips and then pulling away. Sometimes pushing it partway into his grateful mouth or along his seeking tongue, and then withdrawing.

Until, finally, he slid his whole finger into Ronan’s mouth and said, “Suck.”

Ronan groaned in relief. Soon, he was gasping around three fingers, to the same rhythm that Adam's cock was fucking him.

“You can’t come yet, Ronan,” Adam warned him, as he felt Ronan’s moans reach a telling pitch.

It was a very close thing, Adam was dimly aware, as thought finally returned to him in increments.

He pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down, stretching his muscles carefully. Ronan was facing him, whimpering slightly, chest heaving and bitten-red lips parted. Adam admired the contrast of the black lace of the mask against Ronan’s pale skin. Damn, that was a good look on him. His balls looked painfully dark. Adam could enjoy this view forever, but he wanted to keep Ronan off balance tonight.

He got up, turned an unresistant Ronan onto his other side, and sat down again.

Adam was looking at his sweat-sheened back now, inked muscles pulled taut by the restraint. Ronan’s long legs were lovely and elegant even in their boneless sprawl. God, this boy’s body was a fucking work of art.

Adam watched as his cum trickled out of Ronan’s used ass.

 _Jesus._ Ronan's ass… 

When he was burning white-hot with lust, mind useless and body afire, Adam sometimes got flashes of impulses and visions of things he wanted to do with Ronan's ass – to Ronan’s ass. Thoughts that he would quickly shut down. Because they were too ... crazy.

This wasn't how the rational human being called Adam Parrish behaved. Even in bed, even with his boyfriend.

How could he be shatteringly in love with Ronan _and_ his ass, at the same time, in such very different ways? 

It would've been a laughable dilemma, if it hadn't been completely taking over Adam's piece-of-shit reptilian brain for a more than a week now, as he’d planned tonight’s 'activities'. 

It didn't compute for Adam. 

When he thought about Ronan, Adam remembered the smiles and the companionship and the quiet contentment as much as the sex. It was Ronan’s beautiful head thrown back in unselfconscious laughter, a sight very, very few people were privileged enough to witness. It was making dinner together, with the dreamt radio playing Ronan's favourite songs (non-EDM, thankfully - Adam was secretly sure that even Ronan couldn’t actually tell his shitty techno songs apart); Opal cavorting underfoot, more of a hindrance than a help.

It was vicious snowball battles and tickly mock-fights and wrestling for-real (which Ronan always won, because of his superior strength. _Superior_ skill _, loser,_ Ronan had mocked _._ Adam had been quickly banned from using his only guaranteed-to-win dirty tactic – putting his fingers in Ronan's mouth to distract him. It always turned into heated making out, so Adam had argued that they were _both_ winners. But Ronan took things like fair play seriously, and had been genuinely shocked when Adam had called him boring for it).

All these memories were triggered by the word _Ronan_.

But, also triggered were X-rated thoughts of Ronan’s tongue, his dick, his ass. _Especially_ his ass.

Adam’s obsession with Ronan's beautifully curved behind was - pornographic. Obscene and feral. Intrusive thoughts of Ronan's ass left Adam useless for many things, at work and at school. His lack of control was _not_ attractive. It was getting to be a real fucking problem.

He couldn't reconcile those sides of him. Of his different kinds of love for Ronan. 

Like how he wanted to desperately fuck into Ronan's welcoming heat again and again - a combination of wanting to claim him, exist inside him and, also, to be _home_. 

And then, the other part of him - that wanted to be stretched wide open and impaled helplessly on Ronan's cock. To be aware of nothing except Ronan pounding into him, exorcising his thoughts and his demons. 

How could both urges in him be equally strong?

Ronan was much better at accepting the – the - Adam mentally snapped his fingers - the whole opposite-thingy-ness of it.... _Dichotomy_. He meant dichotomy. For fuck’s sake. How had he gotten into Harvard? God, it was because he was so _tired_. This 'controlling' shit was exhausting.

Speaking of this control shit, he'd told himself that he wouldn’t know what tonight would really be like until he was in it. So, he still hadn’t – parsed – it fully. Adam always needed to reduce everything to base components, for his own meaning-making.

What was this whole game about, then? (Except, it wasn’t a _game_ exactly.)

Well, it was about Ronan wanting to be controlled, Adam enjoying being in control, etc. etc. (Adam had gone through the list enough).

But there was more.

Ronan wanted – no, Ronan _needed_ , to be punished. Because he was religious? A dreamer? A Lynch? Ronan? Maybe all of the above?

Okay, so, Ronan needed to be punished, for whatever reason. And needed to submit. And do ... penance, maybe? The equivalent of however many Hail Marys?

It was a good thing Ronan hadn’t gotten together with Kavinsky, Adam thought suddenly, going down another track. With Ronan’s apparent predilection for wanting to be - used - or hurt, he could’ve gotten into some pretty hairy situations with K and his pack. And Ronan might've liked it too - initially, at least.

Perhaps Adam could give Ronan whatever he might've gotten from K (well, besides the racing and the drugs and the dreaming, that is), but in a caring, healthy way.

And what did Adam need, from all this? Adam didn’t actually _need_ anything, at least not in the same way that Ronan did. 'Normal’ sex was enough of a high already, for someone as touch-deprived as Adam had been.

But Adam _wanted_. Oh, yes - he wanted.

He would take as much of Ronan as he could get, as much as Ronan would give him. And knowing Ronan, he would give Adam everything. His body, his heart, his soul, his submission - anything. Adam’s core want was to feel that he was worth it, worth being given all this, was deserving of it.

So, Adam ... gave Ronan what he needed? And Adam took what he wanted? And didn’t feel ashamed about wanting it. Because by taking what Ronan offered, he was providing what Ronan needed.

Needs trumped wants, though.

Yes, okay. That made sense.

Something settled inside Adam, as he worked all this out. Now that he had figured out the ‘rules’ of this game, he felt more sure of his footing. Knew how to handle any situation that might come up. Just go back to first principles: Ronan’s needs taking priority over Adam’s wants, but both being satisfied by the end.

Adam came back to the room, and to himself.

How long had he spent in his own head? Time to focus on Ronan again.

It was fine, though, Adam thought, with a flash of understanding. It was okay to leave Ronan to wait. Let Ronan have been able to do nothing, except anticipate whatever was coming next. It would meet his need to feel powerless right now.

“Look at you,” Adam said, a new surety in his voice and actions after his soul-searching. He prodded Ronan’s back with a bare foot, “My cum is flowin’ out of you. I’ve come twice inside you already. You haven’t come even once. You know you deserve your punishment, don’t you, Ronan?”

“Yes,” Ronan managed to say eventually, lost in darkened bliss.

Adam spent a few minutes entertaining himself, lazily tracing patterns with his bare feet on Ronan’s shoulders, his legs, his lower back. Ronan shivered each time his calloused toes landed somewhere new.

Finally, Adam got up and picked up the last prop in his little ‘play’.

He turned Ronan over and said, “What are the promises you’ve made, Ronan?”

Ronan took a while to reply, but Adam could tell he was trying.

Finally, Ronan’s teeth chattered a little as he got out, “Will do things properly. Tell you everything.”

Adam stroked his shaved head lovingly and then ran his nails along it, a mere suggestion of a sensation. Ronan shivered involuntarily. 

“Very good. I’m gonna do somethin’ real nice for you now.”

He wickedly moved his third ‘object’ along Ronan’s skin. His sharp indrawn breath was – delicious. Adam turned it around and trailed the other side down as well, knowing Ronan would be feeling cold, biting metal. He wondered if Ronan could guess what it was. Ronan shook his head minutely from side to side as he moaned at too many sensations.

Adam moved down the bed, and slid Ronan’s Aglionby belt slitheringly over his shins. He wondered, for a brief awful moment, if Ronan thought he was going to be hit with it, as a ‘reward’. But, no, Adam had already told him he wasn’t going to hurt him.

He played with Ronan infuriatingly, before wrapping the belt twice around his ankles and buckling it. Ronan was now panting loudly.

Adam had had a slight thing for Ronan’s feet (Adam had so many _things_ for Ronan; it was disgusting, really) since the very first night Ronan had kissed him, barefoot, in his bedroom. His high-arched feet were as finely moulded as the rest of him - and sexily masculine, Adam had always thought.

He took a big toe into his wet, warm mouth without warning, and was rewarded by Ronan’s entire body jumping in shock. Adam wrapped his tongue around the top and sucked suggestively, as Ronan nearly hyperventilated.

His hands ran sensually along Ronan’s body as he crawled up the bed; he noted that Ronan had lost his erection somewhere along the way.

Adam kissed him, deep and loving and reassuring.

“It’s okay, Ronan, I got you. I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” he said, between kisses, as Ronan shook slightly, now completely helpless and bound hand and foot _(Oh God)_.

And he _was_ going to take care of Ronan. He'd made sure of that.

Adam had tried everything on himself first. The tie, the sleep mask, the belt. He’d decided to knot the tie so he could remove it quickly, in case Ronan said stop. The sleep mask was chosen after the tie and other articles of clothing proved too narrow or painful or not completely blinding. Adam learned how to fasten the belt around his own ankles so that it wouldn’t bite.

Adam kissed his jaw and his neck and his mouth again and again, “You’re doing so good, Ronan. You’re being so good for me. I’m so pleased with you,” and felt Ronan’s whine deep in his throat.

He sat back and looked at Ronan. What a sight he made – tied and bound and sightless. Flushed and shivering and whimpering.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Adam wanted _more_.

Adam wanted to wreck him _completely_.

He arranged Ronan on his knees, at the top of the bed - ankles bound, hands extended and forehead pressed down, as if in prayer. Adam admired the sight from behind. His thighs were riddled with love bites, his ass invitingly raised. He was a mess of cum on the outside, and Adam was planning to add to the mess of cum on the inside.

Adam grabbed his ass and squeezed the satisfying handfuls of flesh roughly. Ronan shouted out as both of Adam's thumbs hooked inside him and pulled him open gently, hands pressed hard into his cheeks.

“God, Ronan. Your ass…” he moaned, with reverent fervour, “Your ass is gonna drive me crazy.”

He shallowly stroked inside the swollen, loosened opening with his thumbs, feeling the familiar insatiable hunger for Ronan build in him, for the third – fourth? – time that night. Ronan gave a dark, desperate groan and gripped the sheet with both tied hands.

“Now, this is gonna be your worst punishment, and you still can't come, okay?” Adam said, warningly, “You wanna stop right now?”

Ronan’s response was just a long, obscene sound.

“I need an answer, Ronan. You want me to stop?”

“No,” Ronan choked out.

“Okay.”

And Adam slipped two fingers inside his sticky wetness.

Ronan shouted out loud and desperate, and tried to get _away_ from Adam's fingers, for the first time ever.

He shuffled forward desperately with whatever limited range of movement he had.

“Stop moving,” Adam said sharply, and Ronan immediately froze, keening like he was in pain and rocking unconsciously.

Adam pumped his fingers inside Ronan gently, adding lube to ease the drag. Fuck, this must be driving Ronan insane.

It _was_ driving Ronan insane.

“Shh, shh. I know, Ronan, I know this is hard for you. You’re doing so well taking your punishment. I’m so proud of you.”

Ronan made a complicated _animal_ noise in response. One he would’ve never made outside their bed, outside of this moment. A moan of need and pleading, but also spine-deep pleasure at being praised. It was an unrepeatable sound.

Then Adam whispered into Ronan’s ear, a tease and order at the same time: “Scream for me, Ronan.”

He pressed against his prostate ever so slightly.

And Ronan screamed into the mattress. Again and again and again. Tendons pulled painfully tight and muscles tensed against restraints. The back of his neck was flushed an angry red.

Adam watched closely to see how far he could push him. He had never been more laser-focused on anything in his life. Nothing existed in the world except Ronan, and Adam playing him like an instrument.

He waited until Ronan was nearing a point of no return, and slowed down.

Now – _now_ Adam was getting to the part he had been waiting _days_ for. Maybe months. Maybe since the moment they first met. Maybe since the Ronan-looking boy in the store in an Aglionby sweater.

Ronan had always been loud and vocal in bed. And Adam was going to make good use of that.

“Ronan.”

Ronan was just making meaningless noises, lost in pitiful agony. He hadn’t even registered Adam speaking.

Adam said louder, “Ronan, say yes if you can you hear me.”

“Uughh,” said Ronan, still meaningless, but at least a response.

“What do you want, Ronan? Tell me. You can speak now.”

Here it comes, thought Adam, strung tight with anticipation.

And Ronan broke.

 _“Adam, Adam, please,”_ his voice sounded painful and cracked from the screaming.

“Tell me what you want, Ronan.”

“Let me come, Adam, please, _please._ Sweet Jesus, please, let me come,” it was a shock to hear words like this coming out of Ronan’s mouth. In that _tone._

“You want to come?”

“God, yes, yes. _Fuck,”_ Ronan’s voice sounded muffled, as his forehead was still pressed against the mattress. He rocked back and forth and his beautiful cock swung between his legs, a clear stream of precum leaking from it.

“No, Ronan. Not yet. You can’t come yet,” Adam said firmly, and added, wickedly, as Ronan groaned in pure, unadulterated suffering, “Maybe if you ask real nice, I might change my mind though.”

“Please, Adam. _Please_. Please let me come. Oh God.”

Ronan Lynch was _begging_.

_Jesus fucking Christ._

Adam was vibrating out of his skin with the intoxication of it.

It was as if the ordinary, everyday, local Henrietta boy Adam Parrish had vanished. The straight-A student who had gotten into Harvard, who was Cabeswater’s Magician, who could fix cars and read cards and be patient with Opal was - gone.

In his place was a raw creature that was completely shameless, thinking only about satisfying its desires.

Adam lined up his painfully hard cock and pushed in slowly, closing his eyes at the easy, satiny slide into Ronan.

He felt Ronan tremble inside and out. His voice was a higher pitch as he blubbered _Adam_ and _please_ over and over again, more desperately now.

“I know. Just hang on,” Adam said, kissing his tattoo soothingly, “Real soon, okay?”

He heard a wet, relieved gasp.

The lube and Adam's multiple loads of cum squelched inside Ronan, a darkly thrilling sound. His behind jiggled enticingly with every slapping thrust. Adam couldn't look away; he was mesmerised.

“You’re so beautiful, Ronan. God. Your ass is so perfect. I could fuck your ass forever. I could cum in your ass forever,” he babbled breathlessly.

Adam no longer cared how he sounded. He had been stripped of all control and dignity and pretence - the core of his true self was exposed. All he wanted was laid bare and within reach.

For someone who had been denied things, had denied himself things, all his life, this was - impossible to resist. Taking whatever he wanted. Ronan wanting Adam to have it.

Ronan. Ronan. _Ronan_.

This was all for Ronan now.

Adam leaned forward, panting, and lifted Ronan up by his jaw. He pulled his head back till his body was bent almost painfully, white-knuckled bound hands gripping the bed sheet. Ronan sobbed out a gasp, past his limit of endurance, but still waiting for Adam to give him permission.

Who would’ve thought Ronan Lynch would be such a good boy?

“You’re so perfect, Ronan. I’m gonna give you what you want now, okay? ‘Cos I’m so pleased with you.”

Ronan’s ‘Nnghh’ was pushed out of him, in staccato breaths, by Adam’s cock.

“When I tell you to come, you’re gonna come,” Adam said teeth gritting out the words as he fucked into him.

He turned Ronan’s blindfolded head and kissed him hard on the mouth.

He said: “I love you.”

Then he said: “Come for me, Ronan.”

And Ronan gave a long, primal yell that was not quite human. His entire bound body arched in an incredible position, as he pulled the bed clothes off the bed in his tightly clenched fists. Adam was buried inside him to the hilt, as Ronan's cock began to spurt high, untouched.

His head was tipped back against Adam’s shoulder, mouth wide open, body curved like a bow. Adam gripped his cock, wanting more impossible connection, wanting to experience Ronan’s hot throbbing pulses, wanting to be _closer_ , for all that he was already inside Ronan. And it felt as if Ronan came _again_ , in another intense wave of shudders.

Adam felt like he was going to explode as he finally let loose and fucked Ronan viciously. And then he did explode.

If Adam had any shame left, it vanished the moment he fixed on the sight of himself disappearing wetly into Ronan as he came, leaking whiteness. And all Ronan could do was take it. Take his cock. Take his cum. Take everything of Adam.

Adam realised he was saying this out loud, “Take it, Ronan. Just fucking take _all_ of it. God, just look at you taking me so well.”

And the mindfuck was that Ronan _wanted_ this. Wanted him. Wanted everything of him.

They came and came, lost together in an infinite, suspended moment of time.

Finally, Ronan crashed back onto the bed, limp and spent and shivering. And Adam, dragged along by the gravity of Ronan Lynch, like always, collapsed too.

*

Adam cleaned Ronan up gently, as well as he could manage, given that Ronan was all but passed out. His body still trembled with involuntary shudders.

When he took off the tie and belt, Adam realised with dull horror that they had completely chafed Ronan raw.

 _Shit._ Had Adam tied him too tightly - or not tightly enough? He should've taken into account how much Ronan would move and tug on his restraints. Ronan’s wrists reminded Adam uncomfortably of his own, after the demon had possessed him. Except, unlike Adam, Ronan didn’t _deserve_ the marks.

Adam had gripped too hard as well, when he’d tipped Ronan’s head back while fucking him. The imprints of his fingers were stark against thin skin stretched tight over jawbone. They were going to bruise.

He smeared the dreamt healing lotion thickly on Ronan, inside and out, willing it to work quickly. He gave Ronan a sponge bath with the salts, hoping it would be refreshing enough to wake him. He messily put fresh sheets on the bed with great difficulty, rolling a limp, heavy Ronan first to one side and then the other.

No matter what he did, though, he just couldn't wake Ronan - to give him Gatorade or water or chocolate or some stew. Ronan only fluttered his eyelids or twitched, lost to the world, mouth open in exhaustion.

Adam lay down behind him and dabbed the cream on all the hickeys he’d made earlier with such enthusiasm. Usually, he was quite admiring, proud even, of the marks he left on Ronan. But this time, the thought of him bruising Ronan in any way at all, using love or lust as an excuse, seemed unbearably disgusting. 

Suddenly, he missed Ronan fiercely, for all that he was touching him right now. He wished he was awake and there with Adam. To talk to. To hold. To feed. To kiss.

So Adam could know that Ronan was okay.

So Ronan could tell Adam that he was okay.

That Adam hadn't hurt him too badly.

He suddenly felt empty and hollow.

And he was hungry. They’d been at this for _hours_.

In the lonely kitchen, he fixed himself some stew and some calming tea from Fox Way. He hardly tasted it, which was saying a lot.

Something had - _shifted_ tonight, between Ronan and him.

We've gone somewhere we can't return from, Adam thought, with a sense of fatalistic resignation.

Tomorrow was going to bring a change of some sort.

Whether good or not, he had no clue.

He saw flashes of the red, bleeding welts around Ronan’s ankles. He remembered purple bruises around Ronan’s neck. Both put there by him.

His stomach twisted in guilty horror.

He needed more tea.

A miserable half hour later, as he reapplied the lotion inside Ronan's red, angry rim, Adam realised tears were running down his face.

He had sworn he wouldn't hurt Ronan. But he had.

Poor Ronan. Adam had fucked him so roughly and repeatedly, tied him so badly, bitten him so much. Like an animal. Caught up in the moment and his power trip and the stupid shit they were trying. He was supposed to have taken care of Ronan. He had been completely responsible for him. Ronan had trusted him, had given him the gift of his helpless self.

Why was _he_ crying? Adam thought with self-loathing, as he impatiently swiped away tears so he could clearly see the hickeys he was dabbing with the cream. _He_ wasn't the one who had been hurt tonight. No - he had done the hurting. Like he’d always known he would.

He was so scared that he had finally, inevitably, messed up with Ronan. Just like he had with Blue, that day in his room. Adam couldn’t be trusted to be careful with anyone he loved. And they would ultimately see him for the ugly, violent creature he really was.

If he managed to drive _Ronan_ away though, it would prove beyond a doubt that he really was all the things he feared. That he really was beyond hope.

He wished he could talk to Ronan about all this. Ronan always made him feel better.

But Ronan was in another place.

Someplace Adam wished he were too.

So he wouldn’t be so alone.

He sat down in a corner of the bedroom, far away from Ronan - he had no right to be near him, to seek comfort from him right now. He would have to reapply the balm soon. He prayed that Ronan would feel no pain when he woke up. That Ronan’s marks would fade soon. That Adam wouldn’t have to see evidence of his harshness for days to come.

Adam knew, intimately, the different ways that skin could show lust and hate and anger. The wounds on Ronan’s beautiful ankles weren’t _good_ marks. People who loved each other didn’t leave marks like _that._

His mind was a cesspool of dark, hateful thoughts, as he rested his forehead tiredly on his knees.

However Adam had imagined this night would go, he hadn’t expected it to end like this.

* 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Self-hatred and victim-blamey thoughts from Adam towards the end. 
> 
> Also: marks during sex and bondage (from hickeys and tying hands and feet). 
> 
> To avoid these parts, stop reading at the asterisk.


	10. Amabo te

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looong chapter - mostly fun and fluff though, unlike the previous one. Pynch go on a road trip!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to [awesomissima](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomissima/pseuds/awesomissima) ([shamanda-lie](https://shamanda-lie.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr): Propino tibi...
> 
> A shoutout to all my fandom friends – you guys made this month a bit more bearable.

*

Adam peeled open reluctant eyelids. Bright sunlight was aggressively streaming in through the window behind the bed.

He sat up groggily, and spent a moment gathering himself, and convincing his legs to move. Despite waking up at various predawn hours for work and study, Adam was not actually a morning person. He needed loads of caffeine just to robotically function, and even more to actually think. Some days, mainlining it seemed like the ideal solution.

Adam brushed his teeth and shuffled down the stairs slowly, drawn to the life-giving smell of brewing coffee. What time was it, anyway? He had taken off the watch Ronan had dreamt him, the one that showed the time wherever Ronan was in the world – he should remember to put it back on.

_Ronan!_

The memory of last night crashed back into his still waking brain. Shit. Shit. _Shit!_

He ran into the kitchen and skidded to a halt, eyes bugging out when he saw Ronan leaning against the central island, calmly eating an apple and reading a book.

He glanced up and gave Adam an uncomplicated smile. The smile he usually gave him after a night full of loving. Except, last night hadn’t been exactly loving, had it?

“Ronan. Oh my _God. Ronan_.”

He marched up to Ronan and caught his face in his hands, looking for the tell-tale signs of any bruises. There were none - on his jaw, at least. Adam sighed internally.

“Hey,” Ronan covered Adam’s hands with his own and said softly, “Calm the fuck down. What happened?”

“Shit. Ronan,” Adam took Ronan’s hands in his and looked at his wrists. All he could see was an intermittent pale pink line on each, cutting across Ronan’s old scars. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I'm fucking fantastic. Why?”

Adam shook his head, not able to believe what Ronan was saying, the buzzing of guilt loud in his ears.

He dropped to his knees, and pulled up the ragged bottoms of Ronan’s sweats. There were marks around Ronan’s elegant ankles too, but they looked days old. It looked like scabs had formed and already fallen off. Adam ran an examining finger over the new paler skin. 

The part of Adam’s brain that was empirical and constantly curious about Ronan's dream powers was wondering: did the scabs form at all? Did they fall off at some point during the night? Or was it not even a linear process of accelerated healing with the dreamt cream and bath salts?

The other part of Adam, that included his knotted-up stomach and penitent heart and choked-up throat, leaned his forehead against Ronan’s long, solid thigh and exhaled wetly. He’d just woken up and already he felt exhausted.

The next thing he knew, Ronan had knelt down in front of him and gathered him up into a tight hug.

Whatever Adam might have said in the past about people cutting themselves on Ronan, his boyfriend was one of the world’s best huggers. Or, at least, he was when he was hugging Adam. Or at least it seemed so to Adam, who hadn’t been hugged by many people. Ronan always hugged him like Adam had dreamed of being held his whole life. 

He pulled Adam close and wrapped him up in his warm, enveloping embrace, smelling of apples and musk and moss. Adam pressed his nose hard against the pulse beating under Ronan’s fragrant skin.

He gasped out a jagged breath that he couldn’t keep inside any longer. A sound of immense, redemptive gratitude. Ronan was okay. Ronan wasn’t mad at him. It was fine.

They knotted together tightly for a while, until Adam’s spiky breaths calmed and matched Ronan's steady ones.

“Hey,” Ronan whispered in his good ear, “What happened? I woke up and you were sleeping on the floor. And why are you upset?”

“Do you remember last night?” Adam asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“I - I hurt you.”

Ronan drew back and looked at him, then, full of genuine puzzlement, “How?”

“Your ankles and your wrists were raw - where I'd tied you up. And I … think I hurt your ass,” Adam couldn’t keep the slight wobble out of his voice.

“My ass is no different than most mornings after we fuck a lot. I mean, I'm not sitting down, if I can help it,” Ronan shrugged, careless and elegant, “But that healing stuff really works, ‘cos I don’t even feel any of the other things.”

Adam tried to make him understand: “But you weren’t _supposed_ to get hurt.”

“Pfft,” Ronan huffed, dismissively, “How many marks have we given each other doing stupid shit? How many scabs have I picked off you? I bang myself up working here at the Barns all the time. You think some chafing is going to even register?”

Adam was silent, knitting his self-control back together.

Even if the consequences were not as bad - and that was only because of Ronan’s healing magic items - Adam had still messed up. But Ronan seemed in a genuinely good mood. There was no reason to wreck it by belabouring the point. Especially when Adam wasn't up to a discussion right now.

Ronan was already on another tangent, no longer concerned with the topic that seemed so huge to Adam's guilt-ridden mind.

“Adam, fuck, last night was…” he shook his head, trying to find the words, “just fucking amazing. _You_ were amazing. I thought we were going to – I don’t know - mess around a bit, like idiots, and then give up and have regular sex. That we’d be laughing at how ridiculous we were being, you know?”

He bent down to catch Adam's eye and smiled at him, trying to jolly him out of his moroseness.

“But – you took it completely seriously. And you were a natural, so stern and strict and not fucking around. Like you were born to do this. It was the sexiest, kinkiest shit ever.”

Adam grabbed his face and pressed their foreheads together, exhaling a relieved breath.

“I wanted it to be good for you.”

“It was. It was exactly what I wanted. I loved it,” Ronan paused for a second, and asked in a slightly different voice, “Did _you_ like it?”

 _Shit._ Adam really couldn’t handle opening this can of worms right now. He already felt as if he’d swallowed a can of worms, with the way his gut was roiling with guilt and unprocessed emotion.

“Yeah. But can we talk about it later? I really need some coffee right now, and something to eat,” Adam said, chickening out and playing the ‘Feed Me’ card, that he always knew would trump everything else for Ronan.

Well, it _was_ true – he did need coffee and food. But he also wasn’t ready to talk about it.

In the morning light, and with Ronan anticlimactically fine, it just seemed whiny and needy and overdramatic, how he’d reacted yesterday. He couldn’t even remember quite _why_ he’d been so upset, though he definitely felt the hangover from the emotional storm threatening the corners of his mind even now.

He just wanted to – not think about it. For now, at least. 

Ronan looked at him, eyes clear and piercing, as if seeing right through to Adam’s discomfort. Then he sighed, sounding defeated, and said, “Yeah, sure. We’ll talk about it later.”

He kissed Adam on the forehead and the cheek and said, softly, “You want some French toast?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

Adam had his breakfast (‘Don’t you dare say the word brunch in my kitchen, Parrish’) in blessed silence, watching the dust motes dance in the noon sunbeams. Leaning against Ronan, who was in turn standing with his back against the counter. Still reading his book, arms around Adam and chin on his shoulder, occasionally nuzzling his neck. It was warm and reassuring and perfect. 

Later, Ronan carried him upstairs and fucked him sweet and slow, until they were both trembling with the intensity of his restraint. 

He held Adam close, simply kissing away the tears of relief and release that leaked quietly from the sides of his eyes. He whispered devoutly into Adam’s ear, telling him how perfect he was, how loved he was, how lovely he was. He pushed into Adam with his whole body, not just his hips. As if wanting to enter him with his entire self, instead of just his cock.

They clung to each other, slowly rocking back and forth, wrecked and adrift on the endless grey sea of their bed. The only two people in the world.

Adam turned his wet cheek into the pillow and moaned, as Ronan ground his hips into him.

Thank God, last night hadn’t been a disaster. Ronan had liked it. Ronan had loved it. He wasn’t disgusted by Adam. And Adam had given his sexy boyfriend what he’d wanted in bed.

Ronan, in return, was now giving him words and kisses and strokes that healed his torn, ragged soul, overwhelmed and fragile after the events of the previous night.

And all Adam could do was hold on and gasp out the words God and Ronan again and again, until they both seemed to mean the same thing.

*

“So,” he told Ronan over dinner at St. Agnes' one evening, “its Spring Break, starting next weekend. You still on for Harvard?”

Ronan started to speak and then paused. He removed something from his mouth and added it to the growing pile between them.

Opal had helped Ronan bake fudgy brownies for Adam. Other than the eggshells, they were really very good.

“Yeah,” Ronan sucked his teeth.

“It’ll be hectic – nine hours there and nine back.”

“Nine hours??” said around an expressive scoff, and another piece of eggshell removed, “What kind of shit’re you spewing? We’ll be there in six.”

“Ronan. It’s the interstate, not Henrietta. Don’t be an idiot and risk your license.”

“We’ll stay over then.”

“No -”

"Parrish, I have this recurring fantasy of being fucked by you in a hotel room, like in some shitty porno, okay?”

Adam opened his mouth -

Ronan continued, slightly louder, “I’ll need to pick a place that’s appropriately nondescript - with a big bed.” 

Adam rolled his eyes.

“Just let me have some fun, for fuck’s sake.”

Ronan’s voice was carefully non-expressive, but Adam understood. Visiting Harvard was probably going to be hard enough on Ronan as it was, triggering thoughts of the separation that was looming over them all.

Fine. If Ronan wanted to pay for a room and have some ‘fun’, Adam wasn't going to kick up a fuss.

Besides, Adam had never stayed in a hotel. Never ordered room service. Never worn those fluffy bathrobes and slippers. Never fucked Ronan on a strange bed.

It _would_ be fun.

*

They set off much before dawn on a cold, damp Saturday, snacks packed and music cued up. Opal didn’t even glance back at them, as she skipped up the path to where Gwenllian waited at the Fox Way door.

The next thing Adam knew, they were pulling into a rest stop. 

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” Ronan poked him awake as he got out of the car.

“Are you actually using the restrooms, Lynch?” Adam asked, sleepy but snarky, following him in, “I didn’t think you used indoor plumbing when not at home.”

“Fuck you. And look who’s talking.”

“Where are we, anyway?”

“I drove us halfway to New York while you were busy snoring, you ungrateful bastard. The least you could do is buy me breakfast, instead of running your useless mouth off.”

“You didn’t think my mouth was useless last night,” Adam said, meaningfully, crowding Ronan against the hand dryer.

“You gonna do me in a public restroom, Parrish?” Ronan raised a wonderfully sardonic eyebrow, “Do I look like that kind of guy?”

“You look exactly like that kind of guy, Lynch,” Adam said, low and filthy. He firmly cupped Ronan’s crotch in his hand, and moved in to capture his involuntary gasp.

Just then, they heard someone at the door. The boys straightened and hurriedly walked out, grinning all the way to the IHOP.

They demolished a mountain of pancakes and eggs and bacon between them. The hot waitress flirted archly with Ronan, undeterred (or attracted) by his dismissive glare and pointed tattoos. Adam smirked as he noticed her number scrawled on their bill, and pushed it towards Ronan tauntingly, enjoying his irritated scowl. 

Adam left the most generous tip he could. 

Two cups of coffee had restored some of his energy and he took a deep, refreshed breath of early morning air.

“You want me to drive?” he asked.

Ronan stood in a warm beam of sunlight, next to his powerful, classic car. Looking powerful and classic himself, in his vintage leather jacket and aviators. Like someone in the ads Adam used to cut out of magazines.

Ronan snorted inelegantly and the illusion broke, “Just get in and get some more sleep, loser.”

“Look who’s talking,” Adam retorted, in his turn, “When was the last time _you_ actually slept? I’m wide awake.”

He grunted as he sat down and buckled his seat belt, uncomfortable after all that food.

“Then entertain me,” Ronan drawled, lazily suggestive, as he smoothly took off.

“How exactly would you suggest I do that, Lynch?” Adam said, smiling despite himself.

“Road head comes to mind,” Ronan said immediately.

Adam barked out his surprised laugh, “You don’t need any help running this car off the road.”

“Hey, you told me to tell you all my fantasies. Road head is definitely high on the list.”

“How ‘bout we try this when we’re puttering down some rural lane, so you don’t cause a 13-car pile-up when you come?”

“The interstate is the safest – nothing’s going to cut across us. It’s just a straight line.”

“Nice try, Ronan. Plus, some semi driver is gonna get a fun view of me going down on you.”

“Well, he’ll only see the back of your head, so… It’s truly anonymous, if you think about it.”

“So you don’t mind if he sees you? That part of the fantasy or something?”

Adam felt the temperature in the car rise a few degrees from Ronan’s furious blush.

He turned towards Ronan, “Wait. It _is_? Like, for real?”

“What?”

“I mean, not in some hypothetical way, to just jerk off to. You would actually, in real life, get turned on by being watched?”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t you?”

 _“Jesus_. No. I’d be too stressed.”

“What if I was blowing you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Is it also because we’re two dudes?”

_Ah._

Adam had to think about this a bit.

“I probably am more – cautious – about touching you in Henrietta, yeah, 'cos we’re both boys and it’s a small Southern town. But I think the having sex in public…”

“Semi-public,” Ronan corrected, over-enunciating irritatingly.

“Fine, _semi_ -public,” Adam rolled his eyes, “would be the same no matter who it was. I’d be afraid of getting caught.”

“But that’s the best part. The risk. The - voyeurism.”

“Yeah, well, I like my sex nice and private, thanks.”

“Well, I guess semi-public sex is one thing on my list that’s never going to happen then.”

“Don't be greedy, Lynch. I didn’t promise to make _every_ fantasy of yours come true. At least I’m gonna fuck you in a seedy hotel room tonight, like you’ve always wanted.”

“You’ll need to be quiet, though,” Adam added, suggestively.

“Why? Let people know I'm getting nicely drilled. I don’t care.”

“ _I_ do. Only I get to hear what you sound like when you come,” Adam poked Ronan’s bicep and then couldn't help but stroke the soft skin on top of hard muscle, letting his hand linger appreciatively.

“Maybe you should gag me, then,” Ronan’s baritone had pitched a little deeper.

“Maybe I will,” Adam replied, voice low. He scratched blunt nails down Ronan's arm and added, meaningfully, “Or maybe I’ll just tell you to be quiet - and we both know you’ll listen.”

Ronan’s breath caught, and Adam felt his cock stir.

Spending the night in some anonymous hotel in a city. Fitting snugly inside Ronan, for the first time in a week. Forcing him to stay silent while fucking him. Adam's skin was beginning to smoulder just from the anticipation of it all.

“Fuck,” Ronan gasped.

Adam completely agreed.

They both breathed heavily, trying to control themselves. It was not easy – there were a lot of sensory associations here already, given how much they made out in the BMW. And Ronan always found driving sexy, and Adam found Ronan driving sexy, and Ronan found driving Adam sexy, and … yeah, it was going to be difficult.

“Talk about something distracting,” Adam gritted out, “I’ve eaten too much to fool around right now.”

“Why did you cry yourself to sleep on the floor that night?” Ronan asked abruptly.

Okay, that worked.

A bit too well.

It was like a glass of ice water had been poured over Adam’s heart. He abruptly straightened in his seat and crossed his arms across his chest defensively, and said, mutinous:

“I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

“Bullshit, Adam,” Ronan’s voice could have cut diamonds, “It’s been two weeks. Every time I ask you, you say the same thing. And you’re the one who always wants me to talk about fucking emotions and shit. Then I wake up the morning after one of the best nights of my life and I find my boyfriend, who _gave_ me said best night of my life by the way, sleeping on the bedroom floor with tear tracks on his face. And - _what?_ \- I’m not supposed to ask you about it?”

“Fuck you, Lynch. And thanks for respecting me when I say that I’m not ready to talk about it, asshole.”

“Who the fuck are you trying to kid here? It’s me, Adam. I know you,” Ronan sounded confrontational but not angry, surprisingly. “You don’t _want_ to talk about it.”

“You know nothing about that night, okay Ronan? _Nothing_ ,” Adam’s voice was a combination of furious and wobbly.

“Excuse me? I was _there_. Who the hell do you think you were having all that tied up sex with?”

“Yeah. Great. Thanks for rubbing it in,” Adam scoffed as best he could while not being completely in control of his own voice.

“Rubbing _what_ in?” Ronan was truly bewildered, “Was that not exactly what happened? We had tied up sex? And it was fucking amazing. Yet, you cried yourself to sleep, for some reason - which you refuse to tell me about even now. Even though I know it’s been weighing on your mind since it went down.”

 _Dammit._ He’d thought they’d be able to go without talking about this if he pretended to be fine and seemed normal. Because he _had_ been struggling with some – delayed reaction. Which he’d thought he’d kept hidden. But Ronan saw everything about him. He’d been looking for years, after all. It had made him an expert on Adam Parrishes.

He now realised that Ronan had planned to bring this up all along, since Adam would be a captive quarry in the confines of the car. There would’ve been no escaping this.

“You don’t know, Ronan. You don’t understand.”

Ronan’s voice softened, especially when he said his name, “Then tell me, Adam. Help me understand.”

“I messed up. And I hurt you.”

Ronan did his smoker’s breath.

“Is this about your dad?” his voice was quiet, and unusually serious, for Ronan, “Were you beating yourself up about that again?”

“I was supposed to take care of you. And I hurt you instead. And I liked it. Sound like anyone we know?”

The confession was dragged kicking and screaming out of Adam. The string of events he'd unsuccessfully been avoiding thinking about were now laid out in the light of day, for everyone to see.

Ronan suddenly swerved across three lanes. Adam shouted in surprise, grabbing hold of the panic bar, and heard the Doppler effect of a couple of cars honking in the distance.

“ _Ronan_? What the _HELL_?”

“Relax, there was no one behind us. We can’t fucking talk like this.”

Ronan had taken the car off the road and into a grassy area filled with bushes and trees running alongside. The sun was filtering spring-green through young leaves. 

He braked aggressively in the middle of a clearing, yanked off his seat belt, and turned to Adam.

He put his hand out. An invitation. And Adam linked their fingers together. It was easier to talk like this – while touching. Ronan brought his freckled knuckles up to his mouth and kept them there for a few heartbeats. Gathering his courage. Or his words.

“Adam, the marks on me were a side effect of tying me up, okay? We both know you did not do it on purpose. And I totally wanted you to tie me up.”

“Your wrists looked like mine after the demon, Ronan. Your ankles were bleeding. And I fucked you raw. I fucked you so many times, and didn’t let you come until the end.”

“We fuck roughly, Adam. And repeatedly. That’s just how we fuck, most of the time. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Plus, I asked for that kinky shit, remember? I _asked_ to be punished.”

He took a deep breath and continued, “Marks on my skin because you tied me up and had your way with me till I lost my mind, are _not_ the same as the marks you used to have on your skin. Don’t make them the same thing. Don’t do that to yourself, or to me, or to us.”

Adam gripped his hand even tighter. 

“Even if you give me the exact same marks you used to have, they would _still_ be different. It does _not_ make you your dad. It makes you my hot boyfriend who knows that I like it when he gets a little rough with me. And leaves bruises on me. And hopefully, one day, will actually hurt me, because I want him to. ”

Adam opened his mouth to argue, and Ronan continued, softly, “I’ll take any amount of pain and marks, if it means I get to feel that way again. It was a fucking high, man. It was the single sexiest mind-blowing motherfucking experience of my life. It was better than racing, or fighting or drinking or drugs or whatever. It was – just as good as dreaming, but the opposite. “

“What do you mean?” Adam asked, instantly curious. Curious about Ronan the Dreamer, as usual, but also about The Experience. He’d been wanting to ask Ronan what that night had been like for him, but he hadn’t brought it up because he’d been avoiding – well, this very conversation, actually. “How did you feel? How was it different from dreaming?”

“In the beginning it was just – sexy. Being ordered around by you. It made me feel kind of – mellow? Eager? Both? I don’t know how to explain it. But then, when you put the blindfold on me, and then you tied me up and left me, I – blissed out. I was floating. Somewhere.”

“But how was it the opposite of dreaming?”

“Ah,” Ronan ran his free hand over his freshly shaved head, “Dreaming’s not just about bringing shit back; there’s also all the nightmares and the… violence. So, even when I’m sleeping, I’m usually not – resting. I’m always ON. Alert. It’s hard for me to just Be. But that night, at least for some of the time, I got a break from all that. From everything. I wasn’t thinking. Or feeling. Wasn’t doing anything at all. I didn’t have to, because you were there. I was just – silent inside. Gone.”

Adam remembered Gansey saying: _‘She makes me quiet. Like Henrietta.’_

“Huh,” he said, eloquently.

“The not letting me come? The tying me up? Controlling me? It was perfect. It was more than I'd ever imagined – it was like you reached into my head and plucked out exactly what I wanted. Yeah, so the restraints chafed. And maybe they’ll always chafe – or maybe we can buy some that won’t or I can dream some that won’t or whatever. If you don’t want to do this again, if it’s going to upset you or trigger you, then we won’t do this anymore. I told you, I'm totally happy to just have regular sex with you.”

There was silence in the car, and Ronan swept his thumb over Adam’s knuckles, again and again.

“Were those the only reasons you were upset?” he asked, hesitantly.

Adam shook his head. Ronan, of course, had read him perfectly.

“I was alone. And missing you.”

“You needed to - hold me? Me to hold you?”

“I mostly needed to know you were okay. I was - feeling guilty. I thought I’d messed up. Thought that you’d be mad. And leave me.”

Ronan laughed hollowly, “You know that night when I first told you about all this? When you asked me about the Forsan line, the choking and the hurting, and got mad at me? I thought you were going to leave me too. I thought I’d disgusted you.”

Adam was silent. He remembered being a _little_ disgusted at the time. He had changed so much.

Ronan continued, fiercely, “I’m _never_ going to leave you, Adam. It’s a fucking miracle that I even _got_ you. I am not letting you go. _Ever_. No matter what you do, you’re stuck with me. So, stop waiting for that. You might leave me, when you get to Harvard…”

At that, Adam clambered over the central console, pushing the driver’s seat back all the way, and straddled Ronan.

He took Ronan’s face in his calloused hands, “Don’t talk shit. I’m _not_ leaving you when I go to Harvard.”

“You don’t know that. You can’t say that …”

Adam cut him off, firmly, “Why is it that you will never leave me ‘no matter what’, but you think that I could leave you? Why won’t you believe me when I say I will not leave you either?”

“You might meet someone who’s better – easier.”

Adam snorted, “If I wanted easy, I would never have gotten together with you in the first place. Easy is not _better_. They would be easier because they'd be – less. Less than you. And, Ronan – I _love_ you. _All_ of you. Every bit of you. As you are. I do not want to … return you or exchange you, or replace you with an easier model.”

Adam tried to get Ronan to smile a bit, or at least lose the dark frown. But Ronan’s eyes just got more serious.

He said, “So, why is it that _you_ can love every bit of _me_ , but you won’t believe that _I_ can love every bit of _you_?”

Adam was surprised into silence.

Ronan slipped his hands under Adam’s t-shirt and stroked the warm skin of his ribs, “See?”

Adam saw. He did some quick thinking.

“Okay, how ‘bout this? I’ll be open to doing more of this kinky stuff if you’ll be open to believing that I’ll come back to you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Parrish. This is not a negotiation, and those two things are not even connected.”

“Yes, they are,” Adam said, surprised that it wasn’t clear, “They’re both our fears. I'm afraid of hurting you and you’re afraid I’ll cheat on you and leave you.”

“I’m not afraid you’ll cheat on me,” Ronan scoffed, as if it was a ridiculous suggestion.

Adam’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Then why do you think I’ll leave you?”

“It’ll be…gradual. You won’t come over as often. You’ll take up internships and jobs in the city. You’ll get busy. We’ll drift apart,” Ronan sounded – resigned - like he had it all mapped out already.

“Or,” Adam said pointedly, holding Ronan’s face and looking him right in the eyes, “Maybe we’ll drift apart because you won’t go near your fucking phone.”

He raised an eyebrow in challenge.

It was Ronan’s turn to be silent.

“Okay, we don’t have to solve it all right now,” Ronan said, finally, with a big sigh, “We'll figure it out.”

“Okay,” Adam kissed him, soft and soothing and reassuring.

“So,” Ronan murmured against Adam’s jaw, his fingers dipping into the crease between his butt cheeks and rubbing over his hole, “Do you still feel like you’ve eaten too much to fool around?”

Unbuckling belts and unzipping jeans made it much easier to fool around after a big breakfast, they found.

*

Adam looked out of the open window, enjoying the cool wind whipping his hair back. The day had become pleasantly warm and they were taking advantage of it.

He relaxed into his seat and watched Ronan drive. It was such a familiar sight, but today it was bitter-sweet, because he saw so much more.

Ronan was just as scared as he was, about this, about them. 

For some reason, maybe naively, Adam had always thought Ronan was completely secure in this relationship, never doubting himself. And now he realised that they both had their fears. And while that was natural for anyone, maybe, _because_ they were Adam Parrish and Ronan Lynch - the Magician and the Greywaren - they each probably had more baggage individually than many couples had combined.

One thing was becoming clear, though. It was becoming more difficult to … hide. One by one, all the barriers Adam had built up his whole life, every ‘truth’ he had believed about himself, was being torn down by Ronan.

Adam had grown up believing in the _disconnect_ between pain and love. There had been no doubt in his mind that the presence of one meant the absence of the other. And it _was_ true, in the trailer park.

But here was Ronan, rewriting his knowledge of the certainties Adam had known – like always.

Ronan _welcomed_ pain, from Adam, as an expression of love. It was… crazy. It didn’t, shouldn’t, make sense. But like so much of Ronan, it was understandable if Adam orientated himself to it. 

And, most unbelievably, Ronan _wanted_ that part of Adam: the part that was tough and controlling and power-hungry and even a little bit harsh. The part that lived in the space between pain and love, that Adam had always thought he would have to spend his whole life watching for, hiding from.

There was no more hiding.

It was as if the entire incident of the ‘tied up sex’, as Ronan had put it, had stripped a living layer of skin off Adam.

He was all exposed nerve endings that curled in on themselves, exquisitely sensitive to the breeze blowing in through this car window.

And Ronan saw this raw, flayed creature and didn’t flinch. He saw everything ugly about Adam, and thought him beautiful. 

Nothing would ever be the same again.

Adam leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

He’d been right. Something _had_ changed after that night.

Adam just hadn't expected it to be himself.

*

Harvard was all but empty because of Spring Break. 

They drove around, gazing at prestigious-looking historic buildings, punctuated here and there by surprisingly-modern glass and metal architecture.

Adam studied a map he’d gotten from the visitor’s centre, along with their overnight parking pass. They conducted free tours, the lady had said, but he'd shuddered, imagining Ronan’s thundercloud expression while being dragged along behind a droning guide.

They had excellent pizza near Harvard Square, and Adam walked around in a daze, unable to take everything in – and not noticing that Ronan had become unusually quiet. 

Following the map, they found the large green surrounded by freshman dorms. Despite the crisp wind, the sun was warm where it filtered through the trees, dappling the grass.

Adam held onto his latte as he sat down on one of the colourful chairs. 

He studied a handsome old red-bricked building that took up almost a whole side of the park and said, musingly, “I’m gonna be living in one of these places, y’know.”

He was suddenly aware of how broad his rural accent was, unguarded and unselfconscious because he was with Ronan. It would make him stand out like a sore thumb in this cultured academic bastion of the liberal North (He’d always thought of Harvard as conservative, and very Republican. Like a university-shaped version of Gansey’s family. But when he’d done his research, he’d been surprised to find that most students identified as liberal).

Ronan only grunted in response, gazing into the depths of his Americano.

Adam snapped out of his Harvard-glazed fog at that, and focused on Ronan. Shit, he’d been completely self-absorbed. He could only imagine what must be going through Ronan’s mind, how he must be feeling right now. 

He slipped his fingers through the leather bracelets and rubbed at his pulse point, tugging until Ronan sat down next to him.

“Hey, you’ll come visit me here, right?” he said, softly, “A lot?” 

“You’ll probably have a fucking roommate,” Ronan’s voice was sulky and juvenile. Adam hadn’t heard that tone in a while.

“Yeah, but roommates can be – requested - to make themselves scarce. At least for a few hours. And we can always go for a drive,” he nudged Ronan, trying to lighten the mood.

“So, you’ll tell all your high-flying Harvard friends about your high-school dropout farmer boyfriend who's going to visit?” Ronan’s sneering voice was full of self-loathing. He took a sip of coffee and twisted his lips contemptuously.

Adam put his mouth close to Ronan’s ear and said: “No.”

He felt Ronan stiffen, and he continued after a beat, “I’ll tell them about my hot-as-fuck boyfriend - who has the most perfect ass in the world. And the most beautiful cock in the world. And can make me cum my brains out…”

“Jesus, Parrish!” Ronan spluttered around his drink, “So much for keeping sex nice and private.”

Ronan was all pale and pink and pretty. Adam ran his fingertips over a blushing ear and could almost feel it throbbing with embarrassment. Ronan was so _cute_ sometimes.

If you’d told Adam a year ago that he’d find Ronan Lynch adorable one day, he would’ve told you that you needed your head examined. And yet here he was now, absolutely besotted. 

_Damn_. He really wished he could kiss Ronan right now.

And, like being hit by a lighting bolt, Adam suddenly realised that he _could_.

He _could_ kiss Ronan. Right here. In public.

They were not in the small, conservative Southern town where Adam had grown up and might run into his dad on Main Street. They were in one of the best universities in the world, likely filled with LGBTQA+ students of all identities and orientations, where no one would blink an eye if he kissed his shaven-headed, tattooed boyfriend.

And so - he did.

He slid his hand, warmed by the hot drink, around Ronan’s neck and dragged him forward. And kissed him - feeling exuberant and liberated.

Ronan’s lips were bitter and delicious. He froze for a second, thrown by the unexpected and careless display of affection, drawing in a sharp breath that was harsh in Adam’s good ear.

And then he relaxed. He wrapped an arm around Adam's waist, pulling him closer, sliding his tongue luxuriously into his mouth. As if it was the only thing he ever wanted to do. As if they had nothing but time.

And it was true, Adam thought, heart flushed with fierce joy. They had so much time. So many moments yet to live. So many kisses yet to come.

And Adam, this new Adam, this Adam who had his whole life in front of him, and his home waiting for him, and his love next to him, fused his past and future selves together against Ronan’s mouth, right there in the middle of Old Yard.

It was a new world.

*

They walked from the South Station subway to their Boston hotel. There was nothing ‘seedy’ about this neighbourhood, as Adam pointed out to Ronan.

“I didn’t _say_ seedy, Parrish,” Ronan clarified, “I said nondescript. Anyway, you said you’d let me have fun, okay? So quit it.”

Their hotel was a grand, historic building, or so it seemed to Adam’s awed eyes. Inside, however, the atmosphere was surprisingly laid back and modern.

Ronan had taken a page out of Kavinsky's book and dreamt them up fake IDs. He'd made himself predictably scarce now, not being a fan of paperwork or small talk.

Adam politely responded to the smooth, practiced questions of the very smart, decidedly queer, front-desk receptionist - Yan, according to his (their?) name tag.

He tried not to appear like he was a child playing pretend. He tried to look like he _was_ an adult and nonchalantly checked into hotels all the time, with his partner. He also tried to swipe Ronan's card without looking at the amount, but he couldn't bring himself to.

When Adam informed Yan that this was their first trip as a couple and his first time in Boston, they smiled conspiratorially and upgraded the boys to a room with a balcony hot tub.

And told them to check out the many gay clubs in the area (‘I can give you some personal introductions,’ they said, with a discreet wink).

A bit dazed and overwhelmed, Adam let Ronan carry both their bags to the elevator, and tried not to stare at everything like the stereotypical hick that he absolutely felt like.

The room was clean and classic and Spartan, and not at all grand, much to Adam’s relief. He went straight to the balcony to check out the Jacuzzi but hardly spared it a glance, completely captivated by the view of downtown Boston glowing in the slanted afternoon sunlight.

“Ronan…” he started, turning around just in time to see Ronan fall backwards on the large, large bed. He bounced triumphantly as he starfished, and met Adam’s eyes and grinned. Adam smiled back. 

The view inside was much better than the view outside, actually.

Adam had a strange, displaced feeling – of standing outside of himself and observing the scene. This is how my life could be, he though. Visiting big cities, staying in smart hotels, travelling with Ronan. The ‘one day, one day’ that he had so longed for, that he had repeated to himself every time life had seemed unbearably hard, was finally looking like a possibility instead of a pipe dream.

But, he realised, all his grand, unformed dreams had actually been so - hollow. Empty. Or, just very young, maybe. Like coveting a dollhouse, and thinking you could live in it.

The missing ingredient in his shallow simplistic vision, of having a shiny apartment in a dustless city, was that he hadn’t known himself at that time. Hadn’t experienced love. Hadn’t understood home. Hadn’t learnt sacrifice. Hadn’t been part of the ley-line.

Everything that had happened, the good and the bad, had made him...something more.

And though they’d spent the last year steeped in magic, everything he now wanted was - normal. He just wanted an ordinary life.

Not being the Magician. Not Ronan as the Greywaren. It was just this: them taking road trips, getting an apartment together, living in the Barns later, maybe getting married someday. He’d come full circle, in a way – it’s just that his dreams included the magic of love now.

But then, why was his gut telling him it wouldn’t be so simple? What was this sense of amorphous foreboding? He felt a shiver of something spark down his spine.

He shook off his almost-psychic mood with an effort. He was just being doom-and-gloom Adam Parrish, is all. A paranoid over-thinker, with persistent impostor syndrome – unable to relax into happiness.

They’d defeated the demon, the Greenmantles were gone, Ronan was remaking Cabeswater, Gansey was alive - everything was fine.

This was his first time in a hotel in a big city. With a hot tub on the balcony. He was going to enjoy himself. He deserved to have some fun. They both did.

He smirked, leaped and flopped down hard on the bed with a loud _Whoop!_ , almost tipping Ronan off.

“Fucker,” Ronan said, wildly joyful, and fell upon him. They tussled delightedly, rowdy and roguish, trying to get each other into a headlock. They bounced around on the bed, being crazy young boys, high on life and love. They kissed merrily and stripped leisurely and ended up with cum smeared between their stomachs. They ravenously fell upon the monster burgers and milkshakes they’d ordered from room service earlier, and congratulated themselves on their excellent forethought.

Later, the Jacuzzi was divinely hot, and the champagne that came with the room was decadently cold. 

Adam felt grown-up and boyish and out of his depth and firmly in control of his life, all at the same time.

Wrapped around each other, they watched sunset leach the colours from Boston Common, and saw the city lights twinkle to life in the early spring twilight. Soon, one of Adam's hands was jacking Ronan, while two fingers of the other were hooked deep inside his ass. He tried to catch every one of Ronan's gasps with his mouth.

Ronan carried Adam bridal-style back into the room. And Adam fulfilled his promise and fucked Ronan into their nondescript hotel room's mattress, fierce and hungry and intense. They both forgot all about keeping quiet, though. And if anyone did hear their repeated shouts, the boys were too blissfully preoccupied to care. 

*

They woke a few hours later, refreshed and full of energy, and ready to hit the town. Yan gave them an initialled card for Boris at the door of the gay club. 

They ignored the long line of people waiting in the cold to get in, and went straight to the bouncer. Boris looked them up and down critically as he studied their IDs. Adam hadn’t brought any clothes that were exactly club-worthy, so he’d had no choice but to wear his usual chucks and jeans and a new navy Harvard hoodie. Ronan always looked club-ready anyway, with his black everything, including tattoo and expression. Boris nodded once, not unkindly, and they were pleasantly surprised to be allowed in. Cover charge paid and coats checked, they walked downstairs to the actual club.

It was another world. It was sensory overload. It was absolutely fantastic.

The music was a physical entity, loud enough to drive out thought, and Adam could feel the bass in his teeth. His one functioning ear worked overtime, trying to make sense of what he was listening to.

Also, it was _dark_. Adam had been expecting something more like a bar. But this was definitely a club, with strobe lights and coloured lasers pulsing slitheringly to the bone-deep beat.

It was also very gay. For two boys from a small town where they didn’t dare hold hands in public, being surrounded by this heaving mass of unapologetic sexuality was … overwhelming. There were people, mostly men, of all ages and sizes. People dressed in bellbottoms and Italian suits, people wearing nothing much more than criss-crossing leather straps or g-strings or jockstraps, people in full drag and flamboyant costumes, people in regular clothes like him, and people all tatted and skin-headed, like Ronan.

What Adam felt, though, immediately and unexpectedly, was a sense of belonging. These were _his_ people. People just like him. Here, in the middle of an anonymous city, in a strange club, surrounded by strangers, Adam found himself amongst kin. 

Ronan seemed completely comfortable, of course, like he did anywhere.

But then, he belonged here even more than Adam, possibly. This was his kind of music. And his kind of place. And his kind of people, too. 

Ronan caught hold of his hand and confidently led him – somewhere. His tall and solid and intimidating boyfriend easily parted the sea of people and Adam followed in his wake, keeping close.

They passed two men in Just Married sashes, who were slow-dancing and kissing despite the racing music and matching cowboy hats. Same-sex marriage wasn't legal in Virginia. Yet…Adam added to himself.

Escaping the crush at the bar and avoiding flailing limbs, they found a relatively quiet corner where they pressed close, sipping their beers. Ronan kept his arm around Adam's shoulders and his mouth close to his right ear.

“You okay?”

Adam simply nodded, as he took a sip.

“Not too loud for you?”

“Well, it is loud but – Ronan… Look at all these people. It’s _crazy_.”

“Yeah. It’s wild,” Ronan grinned around his bottle.

“Have you ever danced before?” Adam shouted, eyeing two guys who could be in a music video, with all their professional moves.

“Well, my mom taught us some ballroom dancing, and I know some Irish dancing. So, very different from this, but…there’s not much to it, is there?” Ronan shrugged.

“What d’you mean?”

“You just - move,” Ronan said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world, “There aren’t even any steps to learn. It’s easy.”

“Not all of us are born with rhythm, okay? I’d suck so bad.”

“You suck just fine,” Ronan whispered in his ear, grinning. Adam punched his bare arm and rolled his eyes.

“You’ll be fine,” Ronan said, “You’ll be dancing with me.”

Adam frantically shook his head: _No._

“C’mon, don't be a fucking chicken,” Ronan nudged him with his hip.

“I’ll need a lot more alcohol in me before I can dance in public,” Adam muttered, but he didn’t think Ronan heard.

Ronan started to move his pelvis against Adam’s hip, a sinuous motion that was very familiar.

“Is that what you call dancing? You’re just having sex with clothes on,” Adam snorted, dismissively.

“What do you think dancing _is_?” Ronan raised an eyebrow. He handed Adam his beer and started to move - in earnest.

He kept his eyes on Adam and rolled his hips to the beat. As if he was born to it, like the music was a part of his body. Ronan was magnetic and uninhibited, drawing people's attention like a spotlight - without even trying, or caring. He worked his powerful thighs and legs in their tight ripped black jeans, moving his ass rhythmically, completely sure of himself. He turned around in a slow circle, grinding his pelvis exactly like he did in bed.

Adam could _feel_ his brain blow a fuse.

He was already a big fan of how Ronan moved, just in general. But to see him moving his hips in public, like he did in private, in time to the insanely sexy music, was just – too much to take.

Adam didn't have a lot of fantasies. He had some but they were not very realistic. But one of his earliest wet-dream scenarios had come true sometime back.

He recalled it perfectly: Ronan had ridden him in the backseat of the BMW, to the beat of his ubiquitous EDM, just like Adam had imagined many times.

And Adam had realised that his imagination had nothing on Ronan Lynch.

Ronan had rolled his hips in a sinful rhythm, to a beat that seemed to be made for fucking, completely naked and hands braced on Adam’s chest.

And Adam hadn't thought it could get any better.

And then Ronan had turned himself around, so Adam could see his entire tattoo, leading to the swell of his arched, lovely ass and ending with Adam’s cock sheathed in him. Adam knew that this view was for his benefit, especially - all his favourite things. Ronan had braced his palms against the roof and fucked himself gloriously on Adam's cock. And again, Adam hadn't thought it could get any better.

But, this was Ronan having sex. It could _always_ get better, apparently.

Ronan had turned his head and looked down at Adam, eyes blowtorch-blue even in the dim light. And had smiled wickedly, as he reached back and pulled apart his own ass cheeks. Presenting himself. To Adam. For his pleasure. 

Adam’s arousal level shifted to hyper, more turned on than he thought he could be without losing his mind.

He watched, captivated, as his glistening cock disappeared into Ronan again and again.

He slid a fascinated finger against the place where they were wetly joined. And Ronan had gasped and added his own finger next to Adam's – pressing down hard. Adam threw his head back briefly, loving the combined pressure at the root of his dick.

And Adam had said, dead serious and they both knew it too, “One day, I’ll stretch you so wide that I’ll be able to enter you with my cock and my fingers together,”

He had felt Ronan work himself up to a vicious orgasm just from the promise of those words. He kept Ronan’s clenched ass spread open, forcing himself to not close his eyes in bliss, so he could enjoy the most pornographic view in the world, as he coated Ronan’s insides with his cum. 

His hands left deep red marks on Ronan’s pale cheeks.

Adam had developed a slight fondness for EDM after that night.

And here was Ronan, making those same moves in public, as he continued to dance seductively.

He slid his hands over his shaved head, and then ran them down sensuously over his chest. Then he slid them into his back pockets, as his fit and lean torso undulated and his arm muscles stood out.

 _Jesus_. Ronan was really too sexy to be allowed.

Adam needed to be closer. He pulled Ronan towards him by the loops of his jeans, and rubbed his thumbs against hipbones, as Ronan continued to gyrate wantonly.

He dipped his fingers into the front of his low-slung waistband, and felt the head of Ronan’s fully erect and leaking cock, the outline of which was clear against the tight material.

Adam swiped up precum, making Ronan gasp, and sucked his fingers obscenely into his mouth. He kept his eyes on Ronan the entire time and saw his knees grow weak and his lips slacken, at the knowledge that Adam was _tasting_ him, in public.

He slid a thigh between Ronan’s legs, gripped his ass and pulled him closer. And watched his unbelievably hot boyfriend ride his leg to the beat of the music.

And then, Adam was dancing too. Or at least, grinding, with Ronan. They rubbed their erections against each other shamelessly. He couldn’t believe they were doing this in public – or at least, in front of other people.

Soon, though, all thought and self-consciousness had fled. They kissed, pushing into each other harder and faster and sweatier. Ronan turned around and Adam pulled him against his chest firmly. They moved in-sync, smooth and seamless, their bodies knowing this dance already.

Adam admired the fantastic denim-clad ass rubbing firm and rhythmic against his groin. He pushed his own dick against it, again and again, simulating a fucking motion.

And suddenly, Adam's blood ignited like gunpowder. Between one moment and the next, he couldn’t take it anymore.

He dragged Ronan all the way to the restroom, and pushed him into the last stall.

They might’ve passed people washing their hands. Standing around chatting. Looking at themselves in the mirror. Adam had no idea. He didn’t care.

His entire being was focused on removing all barriers between Ronan's ass and his throbbing cock. Right. Now. It was the most urgent, the most important thing in the world. Nothing else mattered. 

They kissed, messy and filthy, all biting teeth and sucking tongues, as they unbuckled belts and unzipped each other frantically. He then turned Ronan around and held him down roughly, cheek pressed against the tiled wall, and a hand on the back of his neck.

Adam pushed up the black muscle tee, and yanked down Ronan's jeans. He sighed in relief at the unbroken line of the tattooed expanse of Ronan's back and his naked, muscled ass. This view was so quintessentially Ronan, evoking thoughts of _home_ and _love_ , that it always soothed something in his soul.

They both moaned as he ran a hand over the smooth inked skin and over the swell of a cheek.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” Adam said, weak with want, as he squeezed a fleshy mound hard enough that Ronan grunted in surprise.

He slid a finger into Ronan, and found him still slightly loose from being fucked earlier. He pumped in and out, feeling Ronan open wider and wider, feeling him push back onto his knuckles, to take more of him in. He made it two fingers with some spit, with enough difficulty that he knew it must be hurting Ronan a bit. But neither of them seemed to care, brains too cooked with lust. However - they had no lube.

Adam pulled Ronan’s hips out. He pushed down with his thumbs, until he got that nice arch to that luscious ass that always drove him absolutely feral.

He bounced the meat of his cock against Ronan's hole tantalizingly and heard his name groaned. Rubbing his cock head along the length of the cleft, he smeared the already damp crevice with precum, and started to slide against it. One of Ronan's hands left the tile, and wrapped around his own cock. Adam speeded up, holding his dick down, burying it even deeper against Ronan’s crack, as he dry humped him.

They grunted and panted and cursed in sync, and Adam went a little insane with the rough drag of it all.

Ronan kept a shoulder and cheek braced against the wall and gripped Adam’s hair with his free hand, hard enough that it hurt. Adam pushed Ronan's plump ass cheeks together, so that his rock-hard dick was enveloped all around.

God, this ass was just made to be fucked, in every way possible.

He heard the slapping of Ronan’s hand on his cock get faster and faster and tried to keep pace, until Ronan gave a loud moan and came all over the tiles.

Adam continued to rut against him, his cock copiously leaking and making everything hot and slippery, until he too spurted, with an animal grunt, onto Ronan's bare back.

In a lust-blown haze, he watched his cum slide back down and trickle into the valley of Ronan’s rump.

Adam’s fingers instinctively followed its wet path, smearing it all along the crevice and pushing it into his hole. Where it belonged. Ronan jumped and moaned and thrust back needily against his finger, even though they had just come - but that would have to wait until they got back to the hotel.

They both leaned into each other in the tiny space, catching their breath and kissing in languid afterglow. Adam continued to finger Ronan lazily, slowly becoming aware of where they were.

“We must've been super loud,” Adam said, wincing, as he realised how echo-ey even his whispered voice was. The music was still pounding through the door, though. Hopefully it had drowned them out a bit.

“I don't care, remember?” Ronan muttered, pressing a kiss to Adam's damp cheekbone. “Also,” he added smugly, “I think this qualifies as semi-public sex.”

*

The next day, they sang loudly to the dreamt stereo on their way back, full of high spirits. At least, Ronan was singing, deep and perfect and melodious, while Adam suspected his efforts qualified as barely in tune. 

Ronan had bullied him into listening to some of his shitty electronica and had taught him to count beats and predict when the music would change. Adam had some actual appreciation for EDM now, which was one of the more unbelievable things that had happened to him.

When the beat dropped it actually produced a visceral reaction in him, because he now had the muscle memory of dancing to refer to. 

Also, Ronan, possibly predictably, had an endless Road Trip mix of actual music (Adam grudgingly agreed to no longer call it that – out loud, at least), and the curated playlist added a nice soundtrack to this most perfect of weekend getaways.

They both hadn’t been quite ready to return to their real lives yet.

Adam had a school-free week and wasn’t needed at work till tomorrow afternoon. On a whim, they’d decided to visit Virginia Beach. Adam hadn’t seen the ocean since he was very young.

They’d traded places when they’d reached D.C., and were now headed towards the water instead of the mountains.

Adam had his eyes closed, enjoying how his non-stereo hearing was able to follow the bass line in a RHCP song easily, for a change - when he felt the car lurch. 

His eyes snapped open, and a thrill of fear throbbed through his gut. This car would never lurch while Ronan was driving it. It was just not possible.

“Ronan?” he asked, bewildered, “What…?”

He noticed that cars were whizzing past them on the left, because they were in the slow lane. 

Ronan's sunglasses masked his expression as he said thickly, “I don't feel - so good.”

For Ronan to even admit that was the scariest part of the whole thing. 

“Pull over then,” Adam said, almost shouting, suddenly strung tight.

“What the fuck d'ya think I'm try'na do, Parrish?” Ronan slurred like he was drunk. 

Adam saw then - what was wrong with him.

But couldn't comprehend it. Couldn't believe his own eyes. He quickly shut the door on it, in his mind. He couldn’t get distracted right now. He needed to first make sure they didn't die on the interstate.

Panic was thrumming through his marrow, to the rhythm of Flea's guitar.

Adam slammed the right blinker on and helped steer them off the road and onto the shoulder. Just in the nick of time, too, because then the second impossible thing happened.

The car stalled. 

Shit. Shit. _Shit._

Ronan must be almost dying to have stalled the car. He was physically incapable of it otherwise.

Sure enough, Ronan's hands slid away from the steering wheel and onto his lap. They lay there, limp and pointless.

Adam remembered to hit the hazard lights and turn off the ignition. They were left in enough silence now that he could hear Ronan's awful breathing. 

He took off their seatbelts and crouched over Ronan to look at him properly, already knowing what he would see.

The third impossible thing.

There were streaks of black running down Ronan's face and neck. It was trickling out of his nose and ears and from under the aviators.

Adam had realised what it was as soon as he'd glimpsed it. Though the last time it had happened he’d been blindfolded and imprisoned in the backseat of this very car, he remembered what the aftermath of it looked like, nightmarishly well. 

Ronan was being unmade.

But it was impossible. It could not be happening. The demon was gone. Cabeswater was gone too, which meant it couldn't be corrupted. There was nothing evil or dark anywhere that Adam could sense in the cards, or during scrying. 

_Ergo_ \- it was impossible. It could not be happening. 

Except that it was clearly possible and was definitely happening.

It hadn’t been a whole minute since Adam had felt the car lurch, but his brain was moving like molasses, looping this impotent moment into an eternity. He watched, useless, as Ronan drowned from the inside.

He saw Ronan's lips make a word, and a wet bubble of black liquid burst around it. 

The word was: _Please._

Ronan was being unmade.

Again.

And Adam was completely helpless.

Again.

_Please._

_*_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said this chapter was *mostly* fun and fluff.


	11. Reverse Evangelist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the nightwash. And Adam spends his Spring Break at the Barns.
> 
> TW/CW: thoughts (only thoughts!) about: death, death of loved ones, violent death (sorry, but mostly canon-typical death, if that helps).  
> Also, CW for religious Catholic themes in connection to kink. To avoid this part, stop reading at: Tonight, Adam had Plans.
> 
> It’s actually a pretty domestic chapter. With some kinky sex at the end. Which, y'know, moves the plot forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to every single person who reached out to me. Your caring and compliments and kindness kept me going during a really, really bleak month. 
> 
> If you ever wonder if your comments make a difference, know that you absolutely made a difference to me. 
> 
> And if you left me a kudos, or even silently wished me well - thank you. You helped, more than you know. 
> 
> *

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

Adam gripped his hair with both hands. He needed to stop panicking; it wasn’t helping him think.

He took off Ronan’s aviators. His eyes were shut, but leaking darkness from the corners. Black rivulets were running down his throat and getting absorbed into the darkness of his tank top. The acrid smell was horrible in the closed warmth of the car. Adam's eyes watered from the fumes.

He noticed all this automatically while his brain was furiously thinking, thinking…

What did he know?

Ronan was being unmade. 

Which was about the demon. 

But not anymore.

Then this was about Cabeswater. 

But it was gone.

It was about Ronan, then. 

About being a dreamer.

What did he know about dreamers?

Not much. 

Who would know about dreamers?

“Hang on, Ronan,” he said, as he took Ronan’s phone from the cup holder and dialled Declan’s number. He pushed the driver’s seat back so Ronan’s long legs had some room, and tried to make him more comfortable while the call went through.

Declan picked up on the second ring. 

Seeing Ronan’s number on their phone screen was code for an emergency in everyone’s book, Adam realised.

Well, it _was_ an emergency.

“Ronan?” Declan’s voice was sharp and stressed.

“Declan,” Adam said, breathing out a sigh of relief. At least he wasn’t alone anymore. “Declan, Ronan’s being unmade again.”

“What do you mean?” Declan’s breathing sounded very much like it had stopped.

“He’s got that black stuff all over his face, like when the demon was unmaking him,” Adam tried not to snap. It wasn’t Declan’s fault that he hadn’t been there that day to see it. He had been calling on the phone though, repeatedly, Adam remembered suddenly.

“Is Matthew okay?” he added.

“I don’t know, but let’s focus on Ronan. He’s the key,” Declan sounded calm, and that brought down Adam’s racing heartbeat somewhat. Yes, they needed to prioritise. Declan was good at that.

“Where are you?” Declan was saying, “What were you doing when this happened?”

Adam explained as quickly and concisely as he could.

“So it must’ve started when you left DC?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Adam was unconsciously stroking Ronan's buzzed head.

“How far from Alexandria do you think you are?”

"Maybe twenty minutes?" Adam said, making a wild guess.

"Then come to my place. Ronan’s been here before and nothing’s gone wrong. Even if it does, we'll handle it." Declan's voice was crisp and sure. 

For all that he was just a year older than Adam, Declan sounded very grown up right then. Adam exhaled gratefully. Yes, they would handle it - together. 

Adam pushed Ronan into the passenger seat with great effort. With a sudden clutching of his heart, he wondered how Opal was, back in Fox Way. But Declan was right. Ronan was the key. Hopefully this would work.

“Hang on, Ronan,” Adam repeated. 

_Please. Please. Hang on_. 

He punched Declan’s address into the GPS and took off, faster than he ever had in his entire life.

*

He parked with a squeal outside Declan’s townhouse, and found him already waiting on the curb.

Ronan had recovered somewhat as they'd neared Declan's place. He’d rinsed out his mouth and coughed and spat out of the window. 

He’d then leaned out of the moving car and poured the rest of the water over his face and head. All it did was make him look even more of a nightmarish mess than before, if Adam was being honest, but he could tell that it'd made Ronan feel better.

Declan hauled Ronan out and propped him up against the BMW. Eyes roaming over Ronan’s face he said, “Take him up. I'll park the car."

“Don’t fucking talk about me like I’m not here,” Ronan pushed Declan’s hand away, but staggered a little. His voice still slurred very slightly.

“Shut up, Ronan,” Adam said, hurriedly, catching him around the waist and swinging one arm over his shoulder. 

Predictably, Ronan didn’t try to shake Adam’s arm off, and Declan’s nostrils flared as he walked around to the driver’s side.

Adam dropped Ronan heavily onto the grey couch and went looking for the fridge.

Declan’s house looked - very much like Declan. Boring and perfect. But even with his lack of experience with normal people living in real houses, Adam knew that no one lived like this. It was more like no one lived here at all. The place didn’t ring true. 

Adam knew about secrets. And this house felt like it was keeping some. 

He pushed a glass of cold water against Ronan's lips and said, “Drink.”

Ronan drank.

Obedient Ronan was something Adam was still getting used to.

Declan came in and sat down on the couch.

"What happened?" he said. He was looking at Ronan with undisguised worry, but Adam thought the question might be for him.

"We spent the weekend in Boston," he replied.

"But he was fine till you headed towards Virginia Beach?"

"I told you, asshole, don't fucking talk about me like I'm not here," Ronan snarled with incredible venom. 

"Fine. You tell me what happened then." 

"Fuck you," Ronan got up and moved towards the stairs, seemingly back to normal. His attitude was back, at least. 

He stripped off his jacket and obnoxiously chucked it onto an armchair that looked like it cost as much as a term at Aglionby. He then took off his ruined tank top, scrubbed his face with it, and threw it at Declan, who caught it with ease and a look of distaste. 

Declan didn't look at all surprised that Ronan was stripping in his entrance foyer. Adam was suddenly reminded that, until a few years ago, Ronan and he had lived in the same house.

And that they were brothers. 

This was why Declan’s boringly perfect house looked fake. Because nothing about the Lynches could be called boring. Or perfect.

“Don’t fucking follow me, either of you,” Ronan spat out viciously. Adam looked at him in disbelief, but the expression in Ronan’s eyes as he looked back was arctic and unfamiliar. He was not joking. “I mean it.”

And then he took himself upstairs, his tattoo flashing as much of a warning as it used to.

“Let him be,” Declan sighed, “There’s no use talking to him when he’s in this mood. Hopefully he’ll sleep it off.”

They both stood at the foot of the stairs, bemused and surrounded by the luggage Declan had brought in from the car, until they heard a door slam above their heads.

“Lunch will be ready soon,” Declan said, as he walked off.

Adam waited until Declan had moved out of sight, and then ran upstairs with their bags. There was no _fucking_ way he was leaving Ronan alone, no matter what anyone said - including Ronan himself. 

He picked up Ronan’s kicked-off boots from the top of the stairs and followed the trail of discarded jeans and boxer briefs to a bedroom, where he heard the shower running.

He walked into the steamed up bathroom and saw the frosted outline of Ronan's tall body. Ronan shut off the water and glared at him as he entered the enclosure. He didn’t look like he had tried to clean up yet. Black streaks were still visible against his pale, flushed skin. 

“Get out.”

Adam said nothing.

“Which part of 'I want to be alone, asshole' did you not understand. Get the fuck out and let me shower in peace,” Ronan’s voice was frosty and biting. 

Adam started stripping.

“I have the right to my space, Adam” Ronan’s eyes were narrowed, “I’m telling you to leave, but if you don’t, so help me God…”

Adam chucked all his stuff out and closed the glass door. 

He then walked up to Ronan, and put his arms around his shoulders, and pulled him close. Dry skin against wet. 

Ronan stood rigid and almost vibrating with anger, arms pressed to his sides, hands clenched into fists. Unmoving. Unbending.

Adam put his hand on Ronan’s neck, and moved it up to cup his skull. He stroked down Ronan’s spine with his other hand. Every touch was hard and slow and solid, slicked by water droplets. He pressed his nose into Ronan’s racing pulse point, and pushed his teeth hard against his skin. He felt Ronan’s jaw clench, again and again. 

He just held him and breathed.

Every muscle in Ronan’s body was coiled tight, like he was gearing up for a fight. Like he was going to throw a punch. Like he was waiting to explode into action. 

But he didn’t push Adam away.

Didn’t try to get out of his embrace. 

And then, Ronan breathed out. It was a complicated thing, that exhale. It was defeated and relieved and resigned. 

Adam continued to hold him for a long time, except now Ronan held Adam too. Too tight and crushed against his body. Afraid of letting go. Afraid of standing unsupported. 

Finally, Adam turned on the shower and scrubbed Ronan clean, from inside his ears to between his toes. Ronan stood there, pliant and unresisting, while Adam wrapped him in a fluffy towel the size of a bed sheet and led him to the bed. They hadn't said a single word to each other the whole time.

Before Adam could pull off the professionally tucked duvet, Ronan threw himself onto it. He pulled Adam on top of him, and kissed him needily, like the only air that could sustain him was from inside Adam’s body. His silent plea tasted of the black desperation of his unmaking.

Adam stroked his face and stomach and thighs and said, “It’ll be okay, Ronan, You’re safe. You’re alright now. I’m here.”

Ronan thrashed and moaned, his head tossing helplessly from side to side, as Adam wrecked him with excruciating thoroughness. He couldn’t take his mouth off Ronan, sucking on his nipples, biting along his bones, licking his balls, proving to himself that Ronan was still able to breathe. And gasp. And squirm. And orgasm. 

Ronan came in his mouth, fingers gripping his hair painfully, neck arched and back bent. His knees were hooked over Adam’s shoulders and his toes were trapped under Adam’s torso. 

Almost immediately after, he fell asleep. But Adam lay awake.

He hadn’t even become fully hard, unable to forget the grim fact that Ronan’s large, strong body under his was a fragile gift. A living miracle, not to be taken for granted. 

He looked at Ronan’s sleeping face, tucked against Adam's chest, brow relaxed, consciousness absent. And he thought about the horrors that had somehow been averted that day.

How the warm body he was holding could so easily have turned cold and lifeless. The pink flush of Ronan’s thin, fair skin could've become blue and grey. The breath that was tickling Adam’s nipple right now could've stilled permanently. Ronan’s eyes, full of electricity and expression, could have become dulled and glazed and empty. 

Ronan, whatever made Ronan Lynch alive, whatever was the quiddity of him, could’ve vanished forever. 

And there would never be another like him again, with his complexity and his contradictions and his uniqueness. 

Unique not because he was a dreamer. Or a magical creature. Or a being with god-like powers.

Unique just because he was Ronan Lynch. 

Who loved Adam so much it made him weep and made Adam laugh so hard it made him cry and drove Adam so mad it made him yell.

Ronan Niall Lynch. 

Snuffed out in his prime.

Gone too soon.

Dead too young.

They'd not even been together six months yet. 

And Adam could've lost him.

It was unbearable to think about.

And Adam didn't know how to prevent it from happening the next time.

Especially if he was nine hours away in Harvard.

Adam's thoughts circled round and round in his head like a pack of morbid dogs, until he was ready to claw his brain out of his skull.

*

Ronan slept for twelve hours straight.

Adam finally left him to go get something to eat, and ended up chatting with Declan about the unmaking and Ivy League colleges and job prospects in D.C. Declan had checked up on both Matthew and Opal and they hadn't felt a thing.

Suddenly, they heard Ronan shouting for them over a series of dull thuds, and ran upstairs in a panic. Adam's heart was beating painfully in his chest. _Shit_. He should never have left Ronan alone. 

But instead of finding him in mortal peril in a pool of black, they found him throwing men's shoes out into the carpeted hallway so he could open the door properly.

The bedroom was filled halfway to the ceiling with identical Oxfords. They kept falling in little avalanches as Ronan tried to clear a path to crawl out. It would've been funny if it hadn't been so bizarre. Especially knowing all this came out of Ronan's subconscious, and could just as easily have been tarantulas or landmines or cleavers.

It took them two trips in their two cars to take everything to various dumpsters. Declan wanted ‘the drops’ scattered, so it wouldn't attract any attention. Ronan rolled his eyes but Adam agreed with the sentiment. They'd had to buy up all the garbage bags in two supermarkets. 

Something in Adam cringed at the waste each time, but the shoes were all lefts and unusable. 

Why size 9 Italians, exactly two thousand in number (Adam had counted)? And why not pairs? What had Ronan been thinking about? What was the dream he'd taken them out of? Ronan shrugged. He knew and remembered nothing this time.

All in all, it was a very surreal Sunday.

*

As they ate dinner, Adam and Declan filled Ronan in on their theories. They both thought Ronan's unmaking had started when he'd left DC. 

"But why?" asked Ronan. 

They were enjoying some really delicious homemade Pad Thai, and Declan and Ronan were wielding chopsticks with an efficient elegance that Adam envied fiercely. 

Adam tried and tried to copy them, before he swore under his breath and switched to a fork. Dessert was coconut ice-cream that Adam had watched Declan make from scratch. Apparently, Ronan wasn't the only Lynch who was skilled in the kitchen. Adam very much doubted Matthew could cook, though.

"You've spent most of your life in the same place," Declan told Ronan, "This is one of the few times you've travelled beyond DC. Maybe it's a distance thing, from your place of birth."

"It could also be a ley line thing," Adam added. That was his personal theory. "Your dad built the Barns near the ley line for a reason, I think. It fed his dreaming, yeah. But maybe it was also because he, and any of his children who might be dreamers, needed to be near it."

Declan's mouth did something when Adam spoke about Niall's children being dreamers. He wondered how Declan felt about not being one. Had Niall treated him differently because of it? 

"But Dad travelled all the time," Ronan reminded them, "And he was born near the Lake District, so he built the Barns a long way from his birthplace."

"We need to find out if there's a ley line running through there," Adam mused.

"Gansey would know," Declan said.

"There's shit loads of lines crisscrossing in Cumbria, not to mention stone circles of every sort nearby," Ronan said, unexpectedly and with complete certainty.

They both looked at him.

"What? I've been listening to Gansey's bullshit for years."

"I wouldn't have called it listening, exactly," Adam murmured.

Ronan scowled at him and said, "I should travel a bit - test your theories." 

"No," Declan said, immediately, "It's too dangerous."

Adam didn't disagree. But of all the tones of voice at his disposal, Declan unfailingly chose the worst possible one when he spoke to Ronan, Adam thought resignedly. Always guaranteed to put his back up and make him rebel. 

"Don't fucking tell me what to do," Ronan fired up immediately. Predictably.

Adam sighed and said, "Let's go home first and see how you do. We're just speculating here. It could be something that never happens again or only when the moon is full or whatever."

"I think those are werewolves, Parrish," Ronan smirked into his water glass. In response, Adam flicked the end of the glass up so Ronan drenched himself.

"Asshole," he spluttered, and tried to give him a noogie. As Adam fended him off, laughing, he caught a flash of Declan's unguarded expression. 

He was smiling wistfully. Like a kid pressed up against the window of a toy store, knowing he could never have what he was looking at.

Adam knew that look. He'd worn it for years.

Ronan clutched him with fierce hunger when they got back to their bedroom. Adam fucked him hard and fast at first, then slow and loving, but Ronan still seemed to be craving something nameless. He was restless and unsoothed, like his skin was itching with energy.

Finally, Adam worked himself open with two fingers, as Ronan watched with hungry eyes. Then he lay down on his side, and Ronan slowly opened him up the rest of the way with his cock. 

They ended up with Adam pushed flat onto his front, ass raised and palms braced against the headboard to counter Ronan plowing into him ruthlessly. Ronan then flipped him over in one easy motion (God he was so strong), and entered him again, strokes aimed swift and sure. 

While Ronan's cock pushed grunts out of both of them, Ronan spread his thighs further apart, to grind his hips more fully against him. And Adam finally lost control, as his cock was pressed between their stomachs.

Ronan fucked him steadily through his orgasm. After teetering on the edge for so long, Adam bit down desperately on Ronan's shoulder to keep from shouting, nails hooked into the tattoo to keep himself tethered. He vaguely realised that he'd drawn blood, from the taste on his tongue. 

He floated in formless bliss for a while. But as he became more aware of himself, Adam realised that he was still being fucked. 

He winced involuntarily, but Ronan didn’t stop. Which meant Ronan didn’t notice. Which seemed impossible. No one was more hyperaware of Adam than Ronan was. And Ronan would never fuck him to discomfort unless Adam actually asked for it. 

He looked up. Ronan's eyes were filled with a wild emptiness, like he was not fully there.

"Ronan," he said, softly and then louder, patting his cheek, "Look at me, Ronan," and with some difficulty Ronan focused on him.

He pushed his fingers into Ronan's stretched ass and placed his clean hand against Ronan's panting lips.

Ronan sucked Adam's middle two fingers into his mouth. He came back into his body with a gasp, like drawing breath after surfacing. 

"It's okay, Ronan," Adam said, "You’re okay."

Ronan looked back at him, eyes still wild, though no longer empty.

"I got you, Ronan. It's okay. You can come now," Adam said, as he brushed against Ronan's prostate. 

Ronan's mouth and ass tightened around his fingers, as his thrusts stuttered. And Adam felt the unmistakable rush of sensation as Ronan came inside him with a relieved and grateful sob, that seemed pulled from the pit of his stomach.

They had another shower and ended up padding downstairs in their boxers, to hunt for food. 

As Adam finished up the coconut ice-cream, he asked, carefully casual, "What was up with you tonight? It was like you were on a mission or something."

Ronan shrugged, "Are you complaining?"

Adam huffed out a laugh, "No, but I'm asking. I don't always know how your brain works, remember?"

"I get like this sometimes. When - things go badly in my dreams."

Adam raised an eyebrow, "You get ... horny? Because of danger?"

"Not turned on by danger," Ronan scoffed around his noodles, "Surviving it. It happens, apparently."

"Huh."

Adam remembered when the other Ronan, the dreamt Ronan, had died in front of them.

"Do you also get extra-uber-assholey and push people away?"

Ronan scowled, "Sometimes I just want to be left alone, dickwad. I don't know why everybody gets that but you."

"Yes, all the sex we just had really proves how much you didn't want me around you," Adam said, deadpan.

He continued, "I was actually thinking of that time in the church. You were such a jerk to me, when I could've helped you bury the body."

Ronan gave him a long look. 

"What?" and Adam's eyes widened as he put the pieces together, "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Would you have…? Did you want to…?" Adam was surprised into stutters.

Ronan scoffed, "I always wanted to, but that day I wouldn't’ve been able to stop myself."

"You wanted to have sex with me," Adam said, as if it was a revelation. He couldn't help a thrill going through him at the words. "That's why you were such a shithead."

Even though by anyone's standards they'd just had exceptionally hot sex, the thought of Ronan wanting him all those months ago was … delicious. Irresistible. 

Especially since Adam had thought for so long that Ronan had hated him that day, and had been disgusted with Adam for making him dream up lies. Ronan's anger really hid some complicated things. 

"What would you have done?" he asked, voice husky.

"Seriously? This is turning you on? You're such a vain bastard."

"Tell me," Adam said, shameless and insistent.

"Well, we would've gone to the Barns, and buried the body, and then we would've gone into the house to clean up, and I would've blown you in the bathroom," Ronan's eyes never left his. He was completely serious.

"You would literally have just had your first kiss," Adam pointed out.

"My first kiss would've very quickly led to my first blowjob. I would've given almost anything that day to have your dick in my mouth."

"Shit," Adam said, totally turned on. His dick could only manage an apologetic twitch in response though, after coming three times in two hours. "So, why didn't you?"

"Because I wasn't sure you'd - want to."

"And so you got extra-uber-assholey and pushed me away instead."

Ronan said nothing.

"Like you did today," Adam pointed out, "Even though you know you can have sex with me anytime you want to now."

"It's not just about the sex, moron," Ronan rolled his eyes at him as Adam walked around the breakfast bar.

"I know," Adam said, "But admit it; you just like being a dramatic gay velociraptor going around biting people's heads off, sometimes," he wrapped his arms around Ronan’s waist, smiling fondly.

"Fuck you, Parrish," Ronan grinned, alive and healthy and happy. 

Adam closed his eyes for a heartbeat.

"I think I'm all fucked out, actually," he laughed softly against the marks his teeth had left on Ronan's shoulder. Then, he covered Ronan's mouth with his.

They kissed in perfect contentment, in Declan's perfect white kitchen, lit by the genteel glow of the designer pendant lamp.

*

They were back home. 

Opal had come running out of Fox Way and jumped straight into Adam's arms, ignoring Ronan completely. He'd sworn at her, half pissed-off and half pleased. 

Adam lay on the couch that evening, watching the flames lick the dreamt ever-burning wood in the fireplace. 

His body was aching after a weekend of sex and stress, an afternoon spent hauling things in the factory and an evening bent over engines at Boyd's. 

No school during Spring Break just meant more hours spent working. 

Ronan was making dinner, and Adam was trying to get up the energy to drag himself upstairs and run a hot bath, which he sorely needed, but found that he couldn't be bothered to move. 

He heard the clopping of hooves. Opal entered his limited field of vision and dropped a bundle of half-chewed sticks on the floor. 

She offered him one, and he smiled and shook his head. 

"Did you have a good time in Fox Way?" he drawled sleepily, patting her face.

"Yes, Gwenllian is nice. She teaches me magic songs and she lets me eat many things," Opal spat out some bark.

"What about the other ladies?" 

"Maura is quiet. Blue is loud, like _Kerah_. There are many other ladies, like the ones who came here to eat the bread. I only see them when they make me come in to sleep," Opal shrugged.

"What d'you do outside the whole time?" Adam asked, curious.

"I sit in the big _arbores_ ," Opal rolled her eyes, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was easy to see that she was Ronan's dreamt thing sometimes, "Gwenllian sits in it with me. I talk to it. If I sit like a stone, I can catch birds and squirrels and eat them."

"The big beech tree? You talk to it? Does it talk back?" Adam was interested now.

"No, but it knows. Artemus made it … understand."

"Hmm. I should go see it again," Adam felt the empty pang of the space inside him where Cabeswater used to be. 

"When you went, _Kerah_ had a _furvusonum_?" Opal inquired, her deep set eyes worried. It was obvious this question, whatever it meant, had been troubling her for a while.

"I don't know what that is."

"The black _lues_. The bad thing that kills the dreams."

"Yeah, he did. Did you feel it?"

Opal shook her head No, "Kerah is … _aegrotat_. His sound is wrong. He has the dream _lues_."

Adam managed to get the gist, "Yeah. Do you know why? Do you know how to cure him?"

"He needs the dream place," Opal said, "With the _arbores_ , like Cabeswater, like the _tir e e’lintes_ had."

"Yeah, I think he's going to dream a new place soon," Adam said, "Don't worry, okay?"

"Okay," Opal said, relieved. 

She stroked Adam's wrist for a while, fingers wet with sap and spit. She was as fascinated by Adam's bones as Ronan was. Then she picked up her branches and skipped away. 

Adam went back to watching the fire. He could almost scry, if he wasn't so tired. He hadn't tried scrying or reading cards since … Cabeswater had died. He really should, but he was afraid that he'd find that he couldn't do it without Cabeswater. That he had become … less. Ordinary. And that would break his heart all over again.

The psychics had assured him he was still, well, psychic. And they would know. But Adam was used to gaining skills, not losing them. 

Ronan found him later, half-comatose, and bullied him into at least washing his hands before dinner. But not before he lay right on top of him, burying his nose in his coveralls and hands and indulging himself for a while in the smell of an Adam straight from Boyd's.

*

" _Kerah_!" two raucous voices called from outside their bedroom door, interrupting their lazy morning in bed.

Adam paused his thrusts and Ronan sighed and yelled, "What?"

"There's water in the cow barn room with the papers," Opal's voice sounded muffled, like her mouth was pressed against the door.

"Where?"

"Everywhere." 

"We better go look," Adam kissed the back of Ronan's ear, as they unconsciously rocked against each other again.

"God, Parrish, just … let's finish, c'mon," Ronan reached back and clutched Adam's ass, pulling him closer. He had his other hand wrapped around himself.

Adam's slick cock was lovingly trapped between warm, muscular thighs, and he really, really didn't want to go anywhere. He really, really wanted to finish. But …

"It might be bad, Ronan. It _was_ your dad's office," he slid his cock out with a needy moan, as Ronan pressed his thighs together harder, trying to keep him in place. 

Adam smacked Ronan's hip lightly as he whined, and said, "Don't be a baby. We can always come back and continue."

But when they got to the barn, Opal and Chainsaw leading the way, they realised that they weren't going to be continuing anything for a while. A pipe had ruptured, flooding most of Ronan's dad's office with inches-high water. 

The room was filled with papers, an ancient computer and posters of Ireland. Adam remembered Ronan bringing him here when he'd first shown him the piece of dreamt Cabeswater last year.

"Fuck!" Ronan spat expressively.

They spent the rest of the morning moving everything to the house using wheelbarrows - that Opal enjoyed sitting in, rather than helping push.

While Ronan was out fixing the pipe and using dreamt heat to dry the carpet, Adam repurposed a downstairs playroom to become the new office. 

The computer needed to be replaced for sure. Adam didn't think it was dreamt. He started leafing through things when he realised that nothing was more recent than the day of Niall's death. 

Where were Ronan's bills or papers or whatever?

There weren't any, Ronan told him over their BLT lunch subs.

"Ronan, you've lived here since November," Adam took a sip of his Coke.

"What paperwork would I need, exactly?" Ronan raised an eyebrow.

"Taxes? Vet records for the real animals? Household expenditure? Bills? Receipts?" Adam's voice was incredulous. 

"Not everyone has spreadsheets to account for every dollar, unlike some anal assholes I could name," Ronan scoffed.

"Uh, a lot of people do, actually. It's called managing your finances. And your life."

"Thanks for the lecture. Fuck off to work with you, Parrish," Ronan made a shooing gesture with his hand, clearly done with the discussion.

Adam rolled his eyes and took up the Hondayota keys.

*

"Parrish, I am never going to do paperwork," Ronan said the next morning, voice clipped and final, as he watched Adam do more filing, "Stop wasting your time with this shit."

He then spent a few moments being very clear about what he thought of paperwork, using imaginatively compounded swear words. He also spent some time explaining what he thought of certain nerds who did unnecessary paperwork-related idiotic things during their spare time. And who therefore, though he did not actually say this but Adam extrapolated easily, did not spend said time with him. 

"If you want to make yourself useful, come help me with the laundry," Ronan finished.

So Adam went with him to the laundry room and held his hand the whole way, smiling. He opened a dryer and pulled out soft grey bed sheets. The other dryer was still running.

As Ronan filled a machine with a load, he looked at Adam with amusement.

"What're you doing?" he asked, as Adam buried his nose in the warm, sweet-smelling clothes.

"I've only done laundry in laundromats, so I was always too embarrassed to do this," Adam said, voice muffled in the linen.

Ronan slid his hand under Adam’s T-shirt and stroked his chest and murmured in his ear, "Well, this shirt looks really dirty. You should totally take it off and wash it."

He grinned triumphantly and something struck Adam as so funny about his terrible line, that he couldn't stop laughing.

Then Ronan twisted his nipples _just so,_ and Adam gasped, instantly hard. And Ronan's mouth was on him, swallowing his moan as he continued to play with his nipples roughly.

Adam yanked his mouth away from Ronan’s and stripped off his tee, expecting Ronan to do the same. Instead, Adam was pushed back against the whirring dryer, as Ronan bent him backwards and latched onto his nipple. 

Adam had a momentary feeling of being perfectly sensorially aware of this moment, each thing separate and distinct. The dryer vibrating behind him and the sight of Ronan’s white teeth pulling painfully on his dusky nub and the suckling, _Oh my God_ , of Ronan's wet sinful mouth, all happening in this perfectly prim domestic room flooded with sunlight and smelling of flowers. His eyes rolled back as he was overwhelmed. 

Of course, with Ronan, anything Adam thought of as overwhelming was soon outdone. Ronan unzipped his jeans while kissing him, yanked his boxers down mid-thigh and lifted Adam onto the frantically spinning dryer and, _Oh my God_. Adam almost jumped out of his skin at the sensations, as his fingers spasmed involuntarily on Ronan’s shoulders.

Adam’s jeans were yanked completely off and Ronan pushed Adam’s knees all the way apart, keeping him open and naked and vulnerable, while Ronan remained fully dressed. Everything from his nudity to the uncomfortably hot dryer under him to the open door of the room was making Adam hyperaware to the point of squirming.

Ronan put his hand on Adam’s chest, and pushed him back until his head hit the wall gently. Hands still keeping Adam's knees apart, Ronan lapped at his precum. He lavished the head of his cock with attention, looking up at Adam with his blue eyes and pretty, dark lashes and pink stretched lips. Then, in one sure move, he took his cock all the way into his mouth. Adam's moan was lost to the noisy air.

The dryer kicked into another gear, and Adam's balls and his perineum and his bare asshole were mercilessly titillated, and Ronan’s tongue was doing it’s expertly maddening thing along the underside of his cock, and in an embarrassingly short time, Adam was coming into Ronan’s mouth, his shouting unheard over the whine of the machine. 

Well, he thought, catching his breath as Ronan licked his lips at him wickedly like the cat that got the cream, he was going to have a Pavlovian response to the smell of laundry detergent now. Not to mention the spinning of washer-dryers. It would make college laundromat runs interesting, to say the least. 

*

It had been a perfect week. Waking up next to Ronan everyday, misty mornings in the fields, repairing rusty farm vehicles and getting Ronan’s dreamt animals to trust him - the domesticity of it was more wondrous to Adam than any magic. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was actually living somewhere - not just marking time, waiting for his real life to start. 

Hanging out with Ronan's family as his boyfriend was also - something new. Tomorrow was Easter Sunday and the Lynch brothers were spending the day at the Barns. Declan and Ronan would be cooking up a traditional Barns feast after Mass. 

Ronan had shown him their heirloom collection of Bibles and religious items, as well as things collected by Niall on his 'travels'. These would all be brought out and dusted and displayed on Holy days, Ronan said solemnly. It fascinated Adam that the boys continued all these practices completely voluntarily. Their sense of family and tradition was really something.

Adam had re-filed everything in the office by Friday. Opal had kept him company, chatting with him and being good and not eating anything without his permission. Her unique take on the dream world and the 'animal world', as she called it, was fascinating.

They'd taken breaks together while Ronan worked, and had explored the dream things in the long barn. Adam had explained how some of them worked and read her stories about magical talking animals, that she sneered at and considered herself infinitely superior to.

They were leaning against a fence, watching Ronan plow a field when Adam suddenly remembered something that he'd been meaning to ask Opal.

"Opal, Ronan said that sometimes things go badly in his dreams, and that there's violence. When would this happen?"

"All the time," Opal said, suddenly serious, stopping her mangling of daisies.

"Like when the night horrors came? Or the demon?"

"No, all the time," Opal said, frowning like Adam was being purposely obtuse, " _Kerah_ would die, or others. You die a lot. Also, Matthew and the Gansey - "

"Wait, hang on, what do you mean _Kerah_ , I mean Ronan, would die all the time? Who would kill him?"

" _Kerah's_ dreams."

"Yeah, but what in the dream?"

"The _malefici_ , the people with the _sonitus_ (here she made the gestures for bombs and guns) the monsters, or bees, or fire. Or sometimes, people not fully dying, just cut up, or melting or…"

"Okay, okay, I get it. Jesus fucking Christ," Adam said, unable to process this litany of horror, recited in Opal's tiny, accented, inflectionless voice, "Does _Kerah_ know it's not real, in the dream? Does he get upset?"

"He cries sometimes," Opal said, frankly, "When the bombs melt his skin, he doesn’t cry. But when Matthew dies or Gansey-friend or you, he cries. When Niall dies now, he doesn't cry anymore. When he finds Aurora, he only cries sometimes."

"Thanks Opal," Adam remembered to say, his mind a whirl, "I'm - I’m going for a walk okay? Tell Ronan I’ll be back for lunch."

He needed to think. About the complicated mess that was Ronan Lynch's psyche and powers.

Once again, Adam felt like he didn't know anything about Ronan at all.

He remembered Ronan being unmade by the demon, and thinking that Ronan without all his posturing was a terrifyingly vulnerable thing. He remembered Matthew being kidnapped by K and Ronan's frantic panic. Ronan sobbing when Gansey died. Ronan's unperformed voice when he talked to his mom. Ronan softly whispering secrets in Adam's arms. Ronan jumping after Opal into the acid pool. 

Ronan loved people without armour. He would die for them, without hesitation. Selfless and brave and devoted.

And then to see these same people dying, violently, repeatedly, when he closed his eyes...

Shit. No wonder Ronan avoided sleeping. And no wonder he chased such extreme sensations while awake. Nothing in the real world must compare with the adrenaline rush of dying on repeat, and then being resurrected. His dreams must be like some VR game.

But here, in the animal world, there would be no do-over, no restart.

Was there some way to control the danger? Who knew? Maybe Niall had known, but Niall had basically told Ronan fuck all about dreaming.

Adam kicked at the dirt on his path viciously. Fuck. Fuck Niall. Fuck everything. Fuck Adam being unable to help. Fuck Ronan being so traumatized from such a young age in his dreams every night, and then to have some of those dreams become reality. 

Fuck this shit to hell.

*

Adam drove the car that evening, on one of their 'drives'. Tonight, Adam had Plans.

He parked in a remote field, killed the engine, kept the lights on and got out. Ronan got out too, surprised. Understandably, because they usually moved to the back seat. But the nights were becoming warmer and Adam had brought the Tiki Balls.

Adam stood in front of the car, pulled Ronan towards him and kissed him deeply, feeling Ronan melt against him.

He then pulled out a scarf from his pocket and held it over Ronan's eyes. He felt Ronan’s surprised gasp through his body.

"Yes or no?" he asked.

"Yes," Ronan said, looking at him desperately, and Adam blindfolded him. 

Adam then spent ages touching Ronan over his clothes, strokes so light they were barely there, over his covered nipples, his denimed crotch, his hidden ass crack. Not touching his skin at all. 

Ronan was panting by the end.

Adam said, "Lift your arms." 

As Ronan complied, swaying a bit in his blindfolded state, Adam took off his muscle tee and said, "Cross your hands behind your back." And Ronan shivered. 

Adam licked his hard and pebbled nipples infuriatingly lightly. He traced his abs and his tattoo with feather-light fingertips, while Ronan whimpered. 

Then, Adam turned him to face the hood of the car and ran a scarf over his crossed wrists.

"Yes or no?" he asked.

"Yes," Ronan bit out, no attitude, just need.

"What are the words if you want to get out?"

"Wait and stop."

Adam tied his wrists together tightly.

He bent him over the hood of the BMW with a hand on the back of his neck. Ronan's cheek hit the warm metal just a little hard, as he overbalanced slightly due to his tied hands and eyes.

Ronan moaned.

"You have to ask for permission to come, okay Ronan?"

Ronan nodded.

Adam unbuckled both their belts, popped buttons and opened zippers, the sounds metallic against Ronan's gasped breaths. Adam slid his hand against skin, and Ronan cried out as Adam stroked his cock, so, so lightly.

Adam slid his fingers under his briefs and along Ronan's ass crack, and then pushed his thumb into his hole gently, bone dry. Ronan hissed. 

His thumb still hooked in Ronan, Adam stripped him completely, even though it took him a long time one-handed. Ronan was squirming in pleasurable agony by the end, wanting more.

When Adam was done, he stood to the side and looked for a long moment at how Ronan was arranged, barefoot, lit by light and shadow and flickering flames, the scarves acting as punctuations of colour. Like a fucking piece of art, Adam thought, not for the first time. He took a couple of photos with Ronan’s phone. Ronan would get a kinky kick out of this, he knew. 

Adam pushed a denim-clad thigh firmly between Ronan's legs.

“Don't move,” Adam warned, as Ronan tried to grind down. Ronan froze.

Adam kicked his legs apart until he was where Adam wanted him.

Hand on the back of Ronan’s neck, Adam slid a lubed finger into him. And soon slid his lubed cock into him. And fucked him. Tied up and blindfolded and bent over the hood of his BMW. God, Adam was so turned on he almost couldn't stand it. He couldn’t imagine how Ronan must be feeling.

He wrapped his hand around Ronan’s cock just enough for him to feel it, and said, "Remember, you can’t come till I give you permission."

Adam's only answer was a whined _Nnngghh_.

Soon, Ronan pleaded low and slurred, “Adam.”

"Adam what?" Adam’s voice was punctuated by his shuddering breaths.

“Can I come, Adam?” Ronan's tone sounded completely unlike his usual self.

"What's the magic word, Ronan?" Adam asked tauntingly and held Ronan’s cock more firmly, as he keened.

“Please. Please Adam, can I come?” Ronan asked, almost with a sob, and Adam knew he was very close.

“Yes, you can come,” Adam finally panted out, and sped up his thrusts and his strokes, and they both came at almost exactly the same time. 

Adam climbed up on the car, still completely dressed, and watched Ronan's face resting against the hood. 

He was calm and still, just like Adam wanted for him to be. Hopefully, he wasn't thinking about dying or about Matthew dying or anyone he loved getting hurt. Hopefully, he wasn't thinking at all.

Maybe Adam couldn't help Ronan in the dream place, but he could give him a break in real life. 

Adam understood things a little better now.

He understood Ronan a bit better now.

Understood the different parts that made Ronan need all this from Adam.

Adam wasn't religious, like Ronan was. 

_Was it an inconvenience to be a religious dreamer?_ Adam wondered suddenly, going off at a tangent, _Or did it keep you honest?_ Not that Adam was naive enough to believe that religion automatically conferred morality, or that morality was even a necessarily good thing always. 

The Lynches were definitely religious, anyway. Declan and Matthew came to St. Agnes without fail for mass every Sunday. Adam didn't know if Aurora had even been truly, spiritually religious though. Could dream things really believe in God? Wasn't their God their dreamer? Did Aurora know Niall was her Creator? 

_Anyway_ … Adam tore his mind away from these fascinating digressions...Ronan was religious. Ronan was a devout Catholic. 

Ronan believed that Jesus had died yesterday, for Ronan’s sins. For everybody's sins 

Well, Adam could take on the burden of Ronan’s sins for a while too, then.

If the way to do this for Ronan was by tying him up and bending him over the hood of his car, then so be it. 

Adam would take all the control and the responsibility - and the blame - off of Ronan's shoulders.

So that Ronan could be free and guiltless and innocent, for a while. And could float in blissful peace, for as long as possible. 

And tomorrow, on Easter, Ronan could rise in the morning. New and cleansed and reborn. 

And go to church. And worship his God with a light heart. And be saved, along with everyone else who believed in saviours.

And if there were any marks of pain on Ronan’s skin because Adam had tied him up, Adam knew from experience that these weren't lasting.

And anyway, maybe such marks disappeared when you were resurrected. 

When enough time had passed, Adam's fingers played wickedly with Ronan’s loosened ass, driving him to shouts and distraction. 

As he fucked him again, Adam upped the game a bit. 

Usually, it was Ronan who whispered filth in Adam’s good ear as he fucked him. Told him what he was doing and how it felt and what he was going to do to Adam next, or later, or someday. Melting Adam into a helpless puddle with his dirty talk. Well, today Ronan was going to get a taste of his own medicine.

So, bending low against him, Adam reminded Ronan that they were in public, out in the open. Anyone who passed by could see them.

And Ronan began to gasp, like he couldn't take in enough air.

These people could see Ronan being fucked like this, Adam said, bent over his car naked, all tied up and blindfolded. With his sweet, sweet ass high in the air and Adam’s cock buried balls deep in it. 

And Adam would not stop fucking him, even if these people were watching them, he promised Ronan. And finally, he was going to pull out and come all over Ronan’s ass, so these people could see it. 

Ronan was moaning loudly and continuously now, shaking with arousal. Adam knew this must be a primal fantasy of his. Cars and being watched didn't do it for Adam, but this was all about Ronan, anyway. 

And then Adam told him how good he looked, how good he was being for Adam, how good his ass felt and how pleased Adam was with him. And then Adam stroked his cock until he was almost sobbing and finally said, "You can come now, Ronan."

And Ronan shuddered and shouted and came all over the hood for the second time. And Adam pulled out of him and came all over his ass, as promised. And took another photo for Ronan. 

He untied Ronan and cleaned him up and supported him into the backseat. There Adam held him tightly against his body, both of them wrapped in warm blankets. And Adam stroked his soft skin and damp face and told him how perfect and beautiful and lovely he was. 

Adam knew that everything was fine, that everything would be fine, when Ronan looked at him blurrily and simply sighed out, “Adam”. 

And closed his eyes with a blissful smile and fell asleep against Adam's chest.

Adam heard the far away church clock chime twelve for midnight.

“Happy Easter, Ronan,” he said softly, in the resulting silence, and pressed his lips against Ronan's temple.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amazing [sneakygeit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneakygeit/pseuds/sneakygeit) has created [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25032343) sexy and sublime fanart of Pynch gettin' it on in the laundry room! Go check it out and leave a kudos and comment!
> 
> On another note, I had help with getting a handle on Opal as a character. I have to credit:
> 
> [toast-the-unknowing](https://toast-the-unknowing.tumblr.com/)'s various Tumblr metas about Opal and the Lynches ([shinealightonme on ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightonme/pseuds/shinealightonme)). Also, her excellent D/s Pynch fics soothe something in my soul. 
> 
> The Ravin’ Girls’ [Opal Short Story](https://ravingirls.podiant.co/e/ravin-girls-spep-opal-short-story-360a4a0f861b28/) episode.  
> If you haven't listened to the Ravin Girls' excellent podcast, I highly recommend it. It’s informative, intelligent and rip-roaring fun. I recently finished Season 1 (Book 1), which I.Enjoyed.So.Much, and they’re now starting Season 3 (Book 3). You can find them at all your favourite podcast places, or [here](https://ravingirls.podiant.co/e/ravin-girls-teaser-its-starting-3579aaa7d05cae/).
> 
> *Also fyi - I established in my Unguibus et Rostro fic that Ronan is fine with photos during sex. All fics in this series are set in the same 'verse.


	12. Inside yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam makes some decisions, and has some new experiences. 
> 
> A loving-Adam-Parrish chapter. With puns and bad limericks, amongst other things. And some mildly-under-negotiated but feel-good D/s-ish sex towards the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - briefly touches upon past abuse and PTSD-triggers (it's sandwiched between *** if you want to avoid it)
> 
> I had to split this chapter, so the count went up - for the very last time, istg.

Adam rocked in his chair, head cradled in his hands, as he narrated Cicero’s speech against Catiline. He’d memorised it ages ago, of course, but he was sure he’d forget it completely in two weeks, when he’d need it for his Latin final. 

Despite having the world’s worst - or at least the world’s most homicidal - Latin teachers, Aglionby wasn’t going to let them off the hook. They’d gotten a classics doctorate student to tutor the now-tiny Latin cohort. Though Adam was going to Harvard on a full ride and then some, excellent senior grades would keep his scholarship secure.

If only it wasn’t so goddamn airless in his room. If only he could conjure up some food magically. If only he could concentrate. If only he was able to still his mind enough to sleep a little.

His lips shaped the Latin automatically, though his brain didn’t process any of it. 

He nearly pulled a muscle when he jumped at a thunderous crashing against his door. Like someone was kicking it repeatedly.

_Ronan._

He had a key, the asshole.

Adam winced as he got creakily out of his chair, knees popping painfully. 

"Fucking _hell_ , Lynch…" he began, and stopped when he saw Ronan’s arms full of Tupperware dishes

"What the - "

Ronan pushed his way inside, "You said you wouldn't come to the Barns, so the Barns came to you. You’re capable of starving to death while cramming."

"The Barns?"

As if on cue, Adam suddenly had an armful of dreamt half-goat girl and a hairful of dreamt raven, as Chainsaw flapped around his head.

"Adam," Opal’s voice echoed into his midriff.

 _Atom_ , Chainsaw croaked into his good ear, not to be outdone. 

Adam’s first thought resented the interruption and additional demands on his already threadbare energy. The better part of him was relieved. And revived.

For too long, no one had given a shit about him. This affection hadn't become commonplace enough that he took it for granted. 

He knew he needed the break. 

And he definitely needed the food.

Ronan stacked all the boxes in his old, but always surprisingly cold, fridge. Opal clattered around on her tiny hooves on his warped wooden floorboards, while Chainsaw sat on his shoulder and cleaned his hair.

"So, did you sleep at all, nerd?" Ronan said, as he kicked the fridge door shut.

Adam avoided the question, "What're you guys doing here this early?"

"We made food for you. _Kerah_ said you will need lots for your _studium._ "

"You cooked for me? Thank you," Adam stroked Opal's cheek and Chainsaw's chest, but he was talking to Ronan. 

"All right, runts, back to the car. I'll be down soon." Ronan looked piercingly at Adam.

"Parrish, you're dead on your fucking feet," he said, coming up to him "It's just Friday. Sleep, for fuck's sake."

"Mmm," Adam lay his forehead against Ronan's collarbone, breathing in the warmth of him. He smelt like home. 

Ronan had, in his own abrupt way, asked him to move into the Barns recently, when the Hondayota had given up the ghost. It was currently resting on blocks in the Barns, waiting until Adam had the time, and the parts, to fix it. 

Adam still hadn’t answered Ronan. Or hadn't decided. Or at least, hadn’t let himself think about it. All these were post-finals thoughts and problems.

Ronan wrapped his arms around Adam and pulled him to his chest. "Come home, asshole. You can sleep and study in Declan's room. I promise no one will even talk to you." 

"If 'm there, I won't want to study," Adam slurred, "Stay here? Then I can sleep."

"I can't, I have to feed the animals," Ronan spoke regretfully into his scalp, nosing his hair, "I'll drive you back anytime you want."

It was very hard to say no when Ronan was tempting him with exactly what he himself wanted. "'Kay," he said, finally, losing every battle.

  
They brought all the food back with them, and Adam gobbled up a steak sandwich in the car. 

Ronan gave him a look, as if to say he knew how long it’d been since Adam had eaten properly. By the time they reached the Barns, he was pleasantly sleepy, lulled by a full stomach and Opal’s soothing chatter. 

He couldn’t bring himself to move, even after Ronan opened the door.

“C’mon asshole. I'm not lugging you upstairs.”

“You could, though, if you really wanted to,” Adam said sleepily, smirking up at him.

“Nice try, Parrish. I’m not falling for it. Get your lazy ass out of my car.”

When he didn’t budge, Ronan pulled him out and dragged him up the stairs. Opal’s tiny hands pushed on the small of his back and Chainsaw brought up the rear of their little procession. 

They were so excited to have Adam at the Barns that they made a huge racket. Ronan kicked them out of the room eventually, and Adam was stripped of his clothes and tucked into bed.

“I’m gonna be working the fields okay? There’s food in the fridge and I’ll put a pot of coffee on,” Ronan smoothed his hair off his forehead and gave him a kiss.

Adam tried to return it. He really did. But he was already asleep, cocooned amidst bedclothes piled like thunderheads.

*

Adam had woken up around lunch and locked himself in Declan’s room to study. As promised, no one had disturbed him. But the combination of sleeping at weird hours and being hyper-stressed meant that he had given himself a headache, a stiff neck and an aching back.

Ronan knocked on the door just as Adam was gingerly going through some stretches.

He raised an eyebrow quizzically, watching him wince.

"I’m just - _ugh_ \- aching all over," Adam replied, tilting his neck from side to side and trying to get the crick out.

"Come and eat something. Take a break," Ronan came up to him and put his hands on his shoulders, pressing with his thumbs.

Adam’s world exploded with pain. 

"Oww!" he yelled, jumping away, "What the _hell_ , Ronan?"

"What?" Ronan looked flabbergasted.

"Were you trying to kill me?"

"I literally just touched you. It shows how tense you are."

"Fuck, it felt like you were going to torture me or something."

"I know something that’ll help," Ronan said. "But, dinner first. C'mon."

*

“So, I’ve been working on some - anti-grav stuff.” Ronan said, after they'd locked up the barns and made sure Opal was snug in her ‘hide’. She was choosing to spend the warmer nights outdoors, more and more.

“Anti-grav?” Adam said, walking up to the farmhouse behind him.

“Yeah, just - an idea. With a lot of different applications.”

“Like what?”

“Like, flying for one.”

“You want to fly?”

“Sure. Doesn't everyone? Not just me though. I want to be able to make things...float.”

“Huh.” Adam was definitely not interested in flying. Or floating. 

“Yeah, I saw a helium balloon and thought, why not?”

Adam shook his head, marvelling at how Ronan’s mind worked - and how dreaming worked. 

“You know how you said we should make the long barn climate-controlled?”

“Yeah?”

They’d decided to make Ronan’s workspace the long barn, now that the Barns office had moved to the farmhouse. 

“So, I thought I could shift all the cows and shit there. I can work on waking them in air conditioned comfort. Or heated comfort. Whichever. So I thought anti-grav stuff would help with the moving.”

“What are these anti-grav things? Do they work?” 

Ronan opened his mouth to reply and Adam interrupted, smirking, "Give me the short answer.”

“Asshole,” Ronan shoved him playfully, “As payback for that, you don’t get to see it.”

“What?” Adam wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

“You only get to Experience it.”

“You serious?”

“Nah,” Ronan put an arm around him and pulled him close, kissing his temple. “Just yanking you. But I do want you to experience it first, before seeing it.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't want your huge science brain taking over as soon as you set eyes on it,” said Ronan, opening the screened door of the porch.

“So you want me to close my eyes?”

“Hmm. Or...I could blindfold you," Ronan murmured low in his ear, nuzzling his hair.

Adam felt a throb of something in his gut. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or excitement.

“Uh. Is that going to be like when I blindfold you?”

“No. Which part do you mean though?” Ronan frowned. 

“The sex part is fine. But no tying up.” 

Actually, Adam wasn’t _quite_ sure about the blindfolding, but he was definitely sure he didn’t want to be tied up.

“We’re not going to have sex, okay Parrish?” Ronan rolled his eyes, “Well, that’s not the plan, anyway. Go and sit on the sofa, and close your damn eyes.”

Adam collapsed onto the sofa, trying to ease some of the tension in his neck and shoulders. He tipped his head back and sighed.

He heard Ronan coming down the stairs. Along with the sounds of the wood creaking was the rustling of something synthetic. Adam’s brain tried to figure out what it could be. The closest guess it had settled on was parachute material, when Ronan said:

“Okay, keep your eyes closed. I’m going to take you to it.”

“Where is it?”

“In front of the fire. Here.”

Ronan put his hand on Adam’s arm and pulled him up gently. 

"Uh." Adam clutched him, suddenly disoriented.

"For fuck’s sakes, Parrish. Are you scared?"

"No. I just - like knowing what’s happening."

"We’re going near the fire. I told you," Ronan held his hand and led him across the area rug, soft under his bare feet.

"Okay, we’re here,” Ronan’s voice sounded much closer to his good ear, “It’s on the ground, right in front of you."

"Just, don’t move okay?" Adam said, gripping Ronan’s arm tighter. He felt the warmth of the dreamt fire in the large stone hearth.

He crouched, letting Ronan take most of his weight, and put his hand out to blindly touch the ground in front of him. He really hadn’t pictured what he was going to feel, but he hadn’t been expecting - 

“A sleeping bag? A mattress?”

"Yeah, something between the two. Except it was supposed to float, or hover. But the floating part kind of went inside it."

"How do you mean?"

"Lie down on it and see."

Adam held onto Ronan, unwilling to let him go, as he sat down on it.

It was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

"Fuck! It feels like a cloud. Or what clouds look like they would feel like."

He wasn't sure that his sentence made sense, but Ronan understood.

"Yeah, that’s kind of what I meant about the floating bit being ‘inside’."

Adam let go of Ronan completely, and lay down on the mattress. It was like a thousand little hands were supporting him, pushing him upwards. 

"I feel like I’m weightless. Holy shit, it actually feels like I’m floating."

"Yeah. So. I thought I’d give you a massage. Okay?"

"Oh, okay,” Adam hadn’t even considered a massage. “What - uh - do I have to do?"

"Take your clothes off."

"Why? Are we going to have sex?"

"No. Jesus. And you say I have a one track mind. Haven’t you ever had a massage before?"

"Yes, my personal masseuse gives me massages every week. Fucker." Adam rolled his eyes, though they were still closed.

"Yeah, okay, okay. I just thought it might help you with your old man aches ‘n pains."

"Who gave _you_ massages, anyway?"

"My dad, after boxing. And I got sports massages after tennis. It really helped, but it can be painful as fuck sometimes."

"Is this going to be painful as fuck? Because then I don’t want it."

"No. Christ. Just trust me, Parrish. We won’t do anything you don’t like."

"Can I open my eyes?"

"But don’t start talking to me about the mattress right now. No twenty fucking questions."

Adam squinted a bit at the firelight in his eyes, and then looked down. He saw a mother-of-pearl expanse that looked like a regular air mattress, but felt like nothing on earth.

“I’ll get the massage oils,” Ronan said, “Finish your nerding-out by the time I come back.”

Adam scowled and stroked the silky material of the mattress. He was definitely going to ask Ronan twenty nerdy questions later, the asshole. 

***

Ronan had come down with some glass bottles. Adam took off all his clothes except his boxers and lay down, closing his eyes.

"Why do you have your boxers on?" Ronan’s voice sounded irritated. 

Adam furrowed his brows as he looked up at him. "I didn’t think you'd want... ass prints all over your prototype."

Ronan snorted, "You have my permission to leave your ass prints on me or anything connected to me, okay? Now, take off your fucking boxers and get on your stomach."

Adam made himself comfortable and closed his eyes, ready to get his first massage. 

He spent some time marvelling at the incredible feeling of floating that the mattress gave him. It was slightly unnerving, not having the sense of...what was the word for it? Proprioception?

And then he gasped involuntarily and nearly jumped out of his skin, when he felt hands descend on his shoulder blades. 

He twisted around to look up at - _Ronan._

For a second, he’d had no idea who was touching him. He hadn’t even remembered that Ronan was giving him a massage. He'd just felt instinctive terror flooding his stomach at the unexpected touch.

"The fuck, Parrish?" Ronan put his hands up, as if to show he was unarmed.

"Uh. Sorry. You - surprised me," Adam said, his heart thumping painfully. 

"You do know that a massage involves me touching you, right?" Ronan raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Just - just give me a minute, okay? And some warning." Adam turned back and lay down, head on his crossed arms. He felt his pulse racing in his wrists.

He took in a few deep breaths, bracing himself, and said, "Okay."

Warm oiled hands touched his lower back. Despite himself, Adam bucked slightly and tensed up, gritting his teeth against the shock of it. Even though he knew it was Ronan touching him, even though he’d known it was coming, it was still - unexpected.

"Jesus. Adam. Are you okay?" Ronan came closer to Adam's hearing side, and Adam...flinched.

It was a whole body flinch. There was no way Ronan didn’t notice. _Dammit._

"This is not a good idea, Adam," Ronan's worried voice said, after a few awkward beats, filled with the sounds of Adam’s ragged breaths that he was failing to calm.

"I’m sorry," Adam said, into his crossed arms. He felt off-kilter and unstable, like after his ear had been busted.

"Don’t ever say sorry… hey… don’t..." He felt Ronan’s hand on his. Adam realised his fists were clenched tight, muscles and veins on display. 

Ronan gently uncurled his hand and tangled their fingers together. 

Adam held on to his hand tightly, breaths still coming too fast, and heart still pounding in his ears. What the _hell_ was the matter with him? 

"Just - tell me what’s happening with you," Ronan’s face came into view, as he lay down on the hearth rug next to Adam. His blue eyes were sharp and worried, as his thumb stroked Adam’s knuckles soothingly.

"Uh, I don’t know. It’s like a - a shock every time you touch me."

"You’ve never had a problem with me touching you before."

"Yeah, it’s like - this mattress makes me feel like I’m floating. It’s confusing."

"Hey, that's fine okay? We don't have to do this, y'know."

"I want to," Adam set his jaw. He was going to get this massage, dammit. 

"Do you want to do it on the bed?" Ronan said, recognising his determination.

Adam had been the same the first time Ronan had tried to fuck him. It had been a nightmare - but Adam had refused to give up. And then it had been mind-blowing. He was used to being stubborn about things he wanted. 

"It’s not just the mattress. It’s everything. My bad ear, and then not being able to see. And not knowing what’s going to happen behind my back." 

For a long time Ronan said nothing, eyes intense on Adam’s face. 

"What?" Adam asked, worried now. Was Ronan upset? "It’s not you - you know that right?"

"Is this about your dad?" was Ronan’s unexpected question.

"Uh," stumbled Adam, at a loss. _Was_ it because of his dad? "I dunno, I mean it’s not like he ever hit me in the dark or something."

Ronan’s nostrils flared, and he brought Adam’s palm to his mouth.

"I think - " Adam tried to work it out for himself, as he explained, "I think it’s like I was always alert because of him, though. Watchful. I always knew what was happening around me. And then losing hearing made me rely on my sight even more." 

The vein in Ronan's forehead was throbbing - with rage, Adam knew. Just the mention of Robert Parrish was enough to do that.

"I know you’re not him, Ronan…" Adam began, apologetically. 

"Adam. You don’t have to explain anything. Ever."

Ronan stroked his cheekbone soothingly. Adam turned his face to rest against Ronan’s palm.

"It’s stupid. I'm disoriented, is all."

"It’s not stupid, you shithead. It’s not your fault, okay? It was _never_ your fault.”

They stared at each other, in silent communion.

“We can stop right now." Ronan's voice was so fierce. He was ready to go to battle for Adam. 

His warrior. 

Adam’s heart felt a pang for past-Adam, who’d been too afraid to leave the trailer. Who might’ve died if Ronan hadn’t stepped in to protect him. 

But, he needed to stop being protected. Rescued. By Ronan. By Cabeswater. Because he didn’t need it anymore - he knew that in his heart. The rest of him just needed to get the memo. 

He put his hand over Ronan’s, cupped around his cheek. "I don't want to stop, Ronan. I don't want this to - win." He knew that Ronan would understand how important this was to him.

Ronan nodded without protest.

"Okay. How ‘bout I give you a massage in your line of sight."

"Yeah, okay. I want this massage. I like it when you touch me, y’know," Adam smiled wanly, trying to get Ronan out of the suddenly intense mood he was in. 

A part of him felt like shit. His sexy boyfriend wanted to give him a massage in front of the fire. Trust him to ruin it by acting like a jumpy idiot.

Ronan rolled his eyes, as if he knew what Adam was thinking. "You don't need to make _me_ feel better, you dumbass. I know you like it when I touch you." 

He dropped a kiss on Adam’s forehead, sat next to him and started stroking his arm rhythmically. It felt amazing.

Ronan ran his thumb from Adam's wrist all the way to his bicep, a slow, sensual slide, with just the perfect amount of pressure. Worshipping Adam's hands with complete concentration. Adam watched the shadows of his lowered lashes flicker against his cheekbones in the fire light. 

At some point, Adam realised that he’d closed his eyes in sheer enjoyment. 

Why was it okay to have Ronan touching him this way? he wondered. Was it just because he could open his eyes and _see_ Ronan? 

This was ridiculous. He trusted Ronan not to hurt him, more than he did anyone else on earth. Ronan didn’t even hurt him when Adam (no, not him, the _demon_ , he corrected) was practically killing him. 

And yet - and _yet_ he couldn’t relax when Ronan was literally behind his back. 

Ronan _had_ his back. It didn't make any sense. 

He was not afraid of Ronan. He was not afraid of the dark. He was not afraid of touch.

So, he was afraid of touch that he couldn't … see coming?

Like he didn't see it coming the first time his father hit him. 

Ah. 

Adam remembered his first scrying session with Persephone - how he'd realised that a part of himself was always taking that first punch from his dad. 

He'd been stuck in that looping moment for years. _Years._ God. That was just...exhausting to think about.

Adam was tired of many things. But he was most tired of being afraid. 

He had been afraid since that shocking impact. It had been a chasm, separating his two selves.

There was Adam before the first punch. And Adam after that first punch.

He was now the Adam who had been hit, every single time after that first time. He was the Adam who had tried to avoid it, tried to explain it, tried to blend into the furniture. But he'd get hit anyway. Despite his best efforts. 

And the emotions would explode inside him - rage at his father, fear of his fists, contempt for his own weakness. 

He would gather up those feelings and lock them away - and think about solutions instead. He just needed to try better next time. If he was more invisible, or smarter, or said the words his dad wanted to hear, he could defuse the situation. One day, he would figure out the magic formula to not get hit. 

He never had. 

No wonder he was constantly braced. Waiting to be betrayed, out of the blue. Just like with that first punch. 

He remembered in Boyd's, when the night horror had terrified him - how the old fear, the old betrayal had been so close to the surface. Been the first thing he'd reached for. _What did I do wrong? Why are you still angry? How can I make it right?_

This was the legacy his father’s fists had given him. The heirlooms of his family. Passed down from father to son, along with the straight teeth and weirdly bent thumbs. 

Adam had broken that cycle though. The violence no longer held sway over him. There was no siren call to his blood anymore. He’d gotten over that.

So, he could let go of his fear, too. 

He was the Magician, dammit. He was Adam Parrish. He could do anything he put his mind to. 

This massage was an opportunity. 

He was very good at seizing opportunities. Or creating them. 

Ronan was the perfect person to _desensitise_ him to this fear. To sacrifice his control to Ronan's safe touch was a surer bet than sacrificing himself to a magical forest.

It was time.

It was time to stop being afraid. 

***

“Stop.”

He opened his eyes and looked at Ronan, knowing what he wanted to do.

Ronan took his hands off Adam immediately, looking worried.

“Get the blindfold,” Adam said.

“What?” Ronan looked stunned. It was not an expression Adam had seen much on his face.

“I'm serious. I want to do this. Get the blindfold.”

“Adam, you don't need to….What’re you trying to prove? To whom?”

Ronan knew him too well. But he needed to understand.

“I want to get over this fear, Ronan. I don’t need it - anymore.” 

“The idea behind a massage was to relax you. Not stress you out further.”

“I’ll be stressed for a while, and then I’ll get over it. Get the blindfold. Please.”

Ronan looked at him for a long time. So long, that Adam thought he would need to go up to their bedroom and get it himself.

He could read the thoughts flitting across Ronan’s eyes. That Adam liked to make things difficult. That he had to do everything himself. That he created his own stress.

But Ronan also knew this was a battle Adam would always fight. Him against his past-self. His second thought vs. his first impulse.

“Okay, but why the blindfold? Just close your eyes.”

“I’ll keep opening them, I know it. I like the darkness, actually. The cloud mattress feels seriously weird, when I can’t see.” 

Ronan sighed - and got up.

He gave Adam the black lace sleep mask they’d used as a blindfold and said, “Say stop or wait, okay?”

Stop and wait were the words they used to communicate during sex. 

Adam nodded and lay down on his stomach.

He put the sleep mask over his eyes.

And the world went dark. 

He felt the warmth of Ronan’s palms close to his back. 

“Okay?” Ronan’s hands were still, asking for permission.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Okay, he could do this. This was fine. He breathed in deep.

And jumped. And tensed. And gasped.

Ronan’s warm, oiled hands paused for a moment and then moved on his back in gentle, smooth strokes.

“You're super tense, Parrish. Relax.” Ronan knew just how to deal with him. 

“Uh. I’m trying.” 

How did people relax, seriously? Was there a trick to it? 

“How do I relax?”

“You just ... relax. Like when you scry?”

“That's my mind, not body.”

“Like when I enter you, then.”

“Huh.” Okay, that was more useful. 

Adam exhaled, slow and complete. Again. And again, as Ronan’s hands touched him somewhere new each time.

This was so...strange. Ronan touching him in a non-romantic way. 

Adam gritted his teeth every time, before breathing out and consciously relaxing.

But he didn't say stop. 

And Ronan kept going.

Adam was so grateful for that. 

“You know, when my dad used to do this for us after boxing practice, it would hurt like hell," Ronan's voice was normal, pointedly ignoring how Adam was still tense as a board. "He used to tell us jokes, saying it made it less painful.”

“Did it?”

“Actually...it did,” said Ronan, musingly. “I’m not sure why though. I guess it distracts you?”

“Tell me some jokes, then.”

“Do I look like Matthew? I don’t know any fucking jokes.”

“Why’d you bring it up, then, if you're so useless? Okay, tell me a joke your dad told you.”

Even as he said it he thought it was a mistake to remind Ronan of his dad. Even though Ronan was the one who'd brought him up. He held his breath. Would Ronan get upset?

Instead he said, sneeringly, “The only joke I know is your face, Parrish.” 

Ronan cackled with so much glee, that Adam found himself laughing too.

“Asshole,” Adam let out a relieved breath.

And Ronan said, surprisingly, “Well, whaddya know? My dad was right.”

“What?”

“I pressed down much harder and you didn't even feel it. Earlier you would've been screaming like a - ”

“If you say girl, I’ll tell Blue.”

“Fucker. Okay, here’s a joke about your stupid face.”

He began to recite in a sing song voice:

_“There once was a boy named Adam_

_Who had pretty bad neck spasm_

_He studied very hard_

_But missed by a yard_

_So his boyfriend gave him an orgasm.”_

A loud snort was surprised out of Adam and he began laughing. And he couldn't stop, for a long time. Just as he'd control himself, he'd again remember Ronan's deep, serious baritone saying those ridiculous rhyming words, and fall into fits of snickers.

He was aware that Ronan had begun massaging him with deep, steady strokes, and that he wasn’t wincing. Or jumping.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Adam knew he felt some pain, but the combination of the pleasure of being touched (especially by Ronan) and the bad jokes Ronan seemed to be making up on the spot, kept him both distracted and entertained.

Gradually his giggles subsided. And then Ronan piped up again.

“What do you call a pear in a Coca Cola t-shirt?”

“Umm. No idea,” Adam smiled into this crossed arms.

“You’re going to Harvard, asshole. At least try and use your genius noggin.”

“Uuuhhh…”. He racked his brain, but it was no use; he came up blank. “Really, Ronan, I give up. What _do_ you call a pear in a Coca Cola t-shirt?”

“Adam Pearish.”

Adam started giggling. 

Ronan sounded gleeful as he recited another:

“What do you call a cat in a Coca Cola t-shirt?”

“God. I don’t know. Something dumb, knowing you.”

“Adam Purrish.”

Adam rolled his eyes, even though Ronan couldn’t see it, and huffed in mock exasperation. Actually, that _was_ kind of cute, but he would never admit it to Ronan. 

But his shoulders started shaking in silent mirth, without his permission. 

“What do you call a dog in a Coca Cola t-shirt?” Ronan asked, presently.

“What?” Adam was already smiling in anticipation.

“Adam Pawrish.”

“Oh lord. Ronan. This is so dumb. You’re _so_ bad at this,”

“Then why are you snorting?” Ronan sounded triumphant.

As his giggles were subsiding, Ronan piped up right on cue. It seemed like his goal was to keep Adam giggling right through the massage. “What do you call a bear in a Coca Cola t-shirt?”

“Dunno,” Adam said laughing. He could've probably figured it out, but he was too lazy to think.

“A bear in a Coca-Cola tee would be Adam Bearish, of course,” Ronan sounded very smug. “I see him as kind of Winnie-the-Pooh-ish, with the red t-shirt riding over his big stomach. Very cute.” A beat. “Unlike you.” 

“Oh my God,” Adam was cackling helplessly, ”You’re losing your touch, Lynch.” 

“That’s not what you said last night, Parrish.”

“I - I wasn’t even with you last night…” Adam could hardly get the words out with how much he was laughing. 

“Stop stating facts, fucker. Don’t you know how insults work? You’re cramping my style.”

Adam was crying with laughter now.

Ronan ran his thumbs deep along Adam’s spine, all the way to his neck. It probably hurt like hell, but Adam was hardly paying attention to it, because:

“What do you call Dumbo the elephant in a Coca Cola t-shirt?”

Adam’s answer was just a silent shake of the head, lips pressed hard together, trying to control himself. 

Somehow, like always, Ronan knew what Adam was doing, though he couldn’t see him.

"Don’t hold your laughter in, you moron. It tenses you up and defeats the fucking purpose. Okay, let’s go again: What do you call Dumbo in a Coca Cola t-shirt?"

"No idea."

"Dumbo."

Adam’s stomach was starting to hurt. 

"What do you call a Gansey in a Coca Cola t-shirt?"

Adam attempted to control his laughter, and tried to think a little. This was about Gansey. He could figure it out.

"Gansey?” he said, going by Ronan's previous joke.

"No. Dumbo."

Adam was shaking, as tears flowed helplessly down his cheeks. 

Ronan was not far behind. He was chuckling so much it was hard for him to bring out the next question.

"What do you call a Gansey in a Coca Cola t-shirt?"

"You just asked me that," Adam hiccuped. 

"This is a new joke. What do you call a Gansey in a Coca Cola t-shirt?"

"What?" Adam gasped.

"Pepsi."

“That … doesn't even... m-make any s-sense,” Adam managed to get out.

“Yeah. It'll drive him crazy,” Ronan said, between evil cackles, “A new mystery for him to solve.”

At the thought of Gansey earnestly trying to ask question after question, working out why someone would call him Pepsi, Adam finally lost it and howled with laughter. 

Ronan continued to tell him dumb jokes, including some more really awful limericks (which included implausible rhymes like ‘Parrish’ and 'anguish' and how Ronan’s cock was ‘massive’). 

All of it left Adam crying and wheezing, until he felt like he’d been laughing forever. 

Then suddenly Ronan stopped and said:

“How’re you feeling?”

Adam reined in his leftover chuckling with an effort and said, in some surprise, “Are we done?”

“You tell me.”

He tested various parts of his body gingerly and found himself feeling pleasantly loose and relaxed. 

“I feel good. That wasn’t so bad.”

“Well, yeah, the jokes helped,” Ronan said, patting him to get him on his back.

“Yeah, they did,” Adam said, forcing himself to overcome inertia and move. He flipped over with a grunt and winced as his stomach muscles hurt, “And you’re really good at massages.”

“You should see what I can do with a prostate,” Ronan quipped.

And Adam found himself helpless with giggles again, as Ronan began to work on his calves. 

Soon, Adam was unknotted enough to just enjoy the long soothing strokes. He floated in a world of pure dark sensation, caught between being pushed up by the anti-grav mattress and being pushed down by Ronan’s hands. 

It was surprisingly sensual. 

Adam thought he would melt from being touched so … lushly. The slide of the faintly perfumed oil - lavender? vanilla? coconut? he couldn’t decide - was decadent. He couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to realise there was a smell to the oil. He _had_ been tense.

Ronan’s warm hands were rough from working the Barns. The contrast of that with the smooth oil was amazing against his sensitised skin. 

It began to slightly feel sexy, though it was still painful. Even the pain was … weirdly nice. Painful yet pleasurable touch was a new concept. It had always been one or the other with him.

Adam sighed and lost himself to the pleasure, making a low moaning sound.

"You sound like a porn flick, Parrish."

He could _hear_ Ronan’s voice change, just a little. 

"You would know," he snorted. But he was suddenly aware that he was naked. And that Ronan’s hands were sliding all over him. 

Adam groaned again, longer this time. It just felt so _good_. God. Warmth collected low in his stomach.

"Fuck," he heard Ronan whisper under his breath. He was relieved that he wasn’t the only one being affected by this suddenly.

‘I’m going to put my hands on your chest now,” Ronan warned, slightly breathless.

“Mmm,” Adam assented, feeling the heat from Ronan’s thighs on either side of his hips.

And then he gasped from shock, as Ronan’s warm palms came down on his chest, his nipples suddenly painfully hard. His cock began to stir from sheer sense memory.

“What?” Ronan said, disbelieving, “After all that massaging of your ass and thighs, _this_ is turning you on?”

“This – it -” Adam was trying to say this has precedent associated with it. The massage had been to desensitise himself. But his skin felt hyper-sensitive now. 

Instead he gasped as Ronan brushed his nipples, each finger catching deliberately against the erect nubs. He couldn’t hide the effect it was having on him. 

“You asshole,” he gritted out, feelingly.

Ronan chuckled wickedly, as his thumbs slid slow and hard on Adam's shoulders, kneading stiff muscle.

Shit. This was where Adam was the most tense – his neck and shoulders. He flinched at the pressure. But he was so turned on that everything was getting all mixed up. Adam's brain no longer knew what it was feeling. It was pain _and_ pleasure. He was floating on the mattress _and_ being pressed down by Ronan. It was all very ...confusing. 

Just molten sensation, overflowing and flooding his awareness. 

It was a lot. 

He felt his cock stiffen further.

Ronan flicked one nipple sharply and Adam’s toes curled, as he felt the edge of a nail press against the other. Ronan lightly ran claws down Adam's torso, a promise more than a sensation. 

Adam’s skin exploded with goosebumps.

_Fuck._

“Ronan! Are you playing with me, or are you massaging me?” Adam gritted out, trying for stern and failing miserably. Especially since he was panting.

“Why do I have to choose?” Ronan had a laugh in his voice, as he bent low and spoke in Adam’s ear. He was enjoying this. 

Adam was starting to feel flushed all over. “God. Ronan. Just - c'mon. Hurry up.” What did he want? He didn’t know. He just needed to be _touched_ \- properly. 

He felt Ronan’s breath on his neck. And the next thing he knew he was overwhelmed, as his body was covered by a familiar weight. 

“What's the hurry?,” Ronan murmured seductively in his good ear, as he lay right on top of Adam, “You going somewhere?”

Oiled palms slid over his arms, until large hands deliberately cuffed Adam's wrists above his head. Ronan's powerful thighs weighed down his legs, unyielding. 

Apparently, Ronan was in the mood to be a contrary bastard. 

And Adam couldn’t do much about it, pinned as he was by Ronan's big body and unable to take a proper breath. 

It was … delicious.

There was too much skin on his, too much heat on him. Too much blood pooling in his groin, pressed against Ronan’s answering length inside his sweatshorts.

But there _wasn’t_ enough movement. 

He used every bit of strength he had and twisted desperately under Ronan's weight, trying to get him to _move_. But Ronan was unyielding, his hips and hands keeping Adam down effortlessly. He was knowingly leveraging all the unfair advantages - every pound, every inch, every wrestling tactic - he had on Adam.

God. Ronan was so fucking _strong_ . It was so fucking _hot_. Adam's whole body flooded with arousal.

The familiar hunger built, eating through his dignity like acid. 

He whined, deep in his chest. 

“ _Ronan_ .” It sounded like _Please_.

Adam, usually so careful not to show his desire for anything - couldn't control this hunger. And he never tried, with Ronan 

Because Ronan could take it. 

Ronan loved it.

And Adam loved _that_. That he could crash and break and exhaust himself against Ronan, and not worry. It was such a relief not to have to hold back.

Adam suddenly had a flash of how he'd forced himself to kiss the wall with his fist, when Blue had said: ‘It's not gonna be you, Adam’. How he'd dismantled that physical impulse, piece by piece, nature over nurture. 

He had a lot of practice holding himself back. From everyone.

Except for Ronan. Ronan had always been the exception to everything, somehow.

Blue had made him want to leave.

Ronan made him want to stay.

“Where’re you gonna go now, huh Parrish?” Ronan was saying, as if he could read his mind. His toe-curling tone dripped with sin. Adam’s insides flipped, both with excitement and nervousness. 

His slicked skin was going to drip off him, in the heat of the furnace that was this man on top of him. He felt his stomach and his chest move in counterpoint to Ronan's, as he panted.

And Ronan was as calm as could be. All he needed to do was wait - and watch Adam self-destruct, as he was taken apart by his own longing. Even without being able to see, Adam knew Ronan’s eyes on him would be knowing, his smile unholy.

“Fucker,” he gasped out, wishing he could take off his blindfold and burn holes through Ronan with his glare. Wishing he could touch him. His fists clenched impotently in Ronan’s grasp. 

“Language, Parrish,” replied Ronan’s cool, amused voice, “If you're not going to ask nicely...”

“God, Ronan. Please. Just - please, _move_ ,” Adam was desperate. He would say and do anything, to get Ronan to agree.

“How'd you like it when it's you saying please, for a change?” Ronan nosed his way from the frantic pulse point in his neck to behind his ear and nipped, hard. Adam's brain was melting.

Jesus. Of all the times to be playing games, why did Ronan have to choose _today_ ? Today, when Adam _wanted_ so badly.

Ronan's lips and tongue wetly tracing his earlobe made him shiver all down his body.

It was unbearable, to be this helpless. In the dark. 

He wanted to escape, wanted to claw open his chest so he could take in enough oxygen. He wanted to be free.

But also - he didn't want to be anywhere else but right here under Ronan, with his searing touch branding him. 

Captured and confined. In the dark. 

It was such sharp, sweet suffering. 

“Please. _Please_ , Ronan,” he gasped, shameless. 

“Your mouth looks so pretty when you're begging,” Ronan’s voice was hot with lust. Adam felt a jolt go straight from his good ear to his groin. “I used to dream of you like this, pleading with me. Dream of holding you down and driving you crazy.”

He felt Ronan’s tongue flick against his lower lip. Just a sip. A taste. A tease. Adam chased the wet heat of it, but Ronan made a warning sound in his throat, and he dropped his head back in defeat.

“You think _this_ is bad?” Ronan growled. He almost sounded angry. “Do you know for how long you drove _me_ crazy? Months. Years. 

Just thinking of Ronan wanting _him_ , for so long... Fuck. Adam was so hard. He wriggled futilely, trying to get some relief. Trying to convince Ronan, remind him of how moving felt so _good_.

“Ronan. I’m not joking, c’mon. That’s enough. Move, goddammit.” 

It was no use. Whatever mood Ronan was in now, _obedient_ was not part of it. 

“Adam. Adam. You know what your problem is?” Ronan’s voice was mock-rueful. He ran his tongue along Adam’s jawbone, pressing his hips and hands down - keeping Adam _in his place_. 

Just that thought made Adam’s stomach flood with...something. 

“You think this is a _conversation_ . This is _not_ a con-ver-sa-tion, Adam.” Ronan bit along Adam’s clavicle with each syllable. It was borderline-painful.

And his voice had an undercurrent of steel to it. He’d never said Adam’s name in this... tone. This elegant and dangerous tone that _meant_ something. 

Adam thrilled to the sound. 

“This is me enjoying how fucking _needy_ Adam Parrish is for my _cock_ ,” Ronan spoke against his throat, teeth wet and sharp. 

God. Ronan’s mouth. Ronan’s mouth saying such _words_. Flicking the sounds out against his tongue and his teeth. 

Ronan’s cut-glass swearing had always turned Adam’s insides syrupy, much, much before he'd even begun to suspect why. Adam was so turned on he was whimpering.

“This is payback, Parrish.” Ronan's tongue licked inside Adam's deaf ear, wicked and incendiary. “Have I driven you crazy yet?”

Hands tightened around Adam’s wrists; his racing heart echoed in them. Ronan usually linked their fingers together, reassuring and loving. But today he was … denying Adam. Restraining him. In a way he had never done before. 

Adam’s spine tingled with excitement. And nervousness. A totally different kind of fear than the one he’d felt earlier. 

Than the one he’d just overcome.

Adam suddenly realised how incredibly careful Ronan had been with him, all these months. Not with the rough sex, because they crashed against each other quite happily. But with Ronan never pushing against Adam’s boundaries. Never testing his desperation. Always giving Adam whatever he wanted, almost before he knew he wanted it. 

And it made him think that Ronan must’ve known his comfort zone even before Adam did. 

What else had Ronan been waiting for, looking for, been aware of? What else had he been holding himself back about?

Ronan had handled him in the same instinctive way he did the animals at the Barns. Adam remembered watching how Ronan let them come to him. Ronan, who usually didn’t seem to have any finesse, was so delicately attuned to these wild creatures. Sensitive to their moods, patiently waiting until they trusted him. Never betraying that trust, but also clearly their master. 

Adam had watched the deer being soothed by Ronan, staying still for him as he inspected them. With his firm palms, that patted flanks. Clever fingers, that freed them of burrs. Gentle hands, that cradled field mice and baby Chainsaw. 

Those same strong hands held Adam captive now. And they knew exactly how to handle him, feral starving creature that he was.

And, at that thought, something unspooled in Adam. Something tight in his gut, deep in his chest - that he didn't even know was twisted protectively until now.

Because -

Adam was safe.

He was in safe hands with Ronan.

Even pinned and completely powerless, Ronan would make sure that nothing bad happened to him. Ronan would take care of him. 

And anyway, Adam was no longer afraid. Of anything.

He let the knowledge of his safety seep into his skin and his bones and his muscle. 

He let go, in one long exhale.

It felt like a breath he'd been holding for years.

“Mmmm,” Ronan said, approval rumbling through their connected chests, as he felt Adam _give_. 

Adam’s toes curled, as Ronan finally, finally tilted his hips, slightly. The tiniest movement. 

It was a gift. 

A relief.

Adam whimpered. 

Ronan slid his cock against Adam's - he’d kicked off his shorts. And Adam shuddered at the shock of naked pleasure, thighs and hips and ass tensing in reply. His stomach was slicking from their leaking slits.

“Adam,” Ronan asked, against his ear.

“Ronan,” Adam agreed. 

There was something different in his voice now - he could hear it. It was no longer imperious or petulant or demanding. It was…willing. Trusting.

“Yeah,” Ronan said, softly, pleased. It sounded like he meant to say: _Finally._

Ronan let go of his crossed wrists and bucked against him, as Adam’s oiled skin made them slip on the surface of the cloud mattress. 

Adam felt heavy and warm and slow - body and mind kneaded into relaxation.

Hands wandered deliberately, waking up Adam’s body everywhere: nails grazing his scalp, palms stroking his side, pinching his nipples. Strong hands lifted his thighs, guiding his legs to wrap around Ronan's flexing ass. His hands were placed on Ronan’s shoulders, hot skin alive under his fingertips.

How had he ever been scared of Ronan touching him unexpectedly? He couldn't remember how it had felt now. 

Instead, Adam could have wept - from being touched by Ronan, being allowed to touch Ronan, being allowed to _move_. It was too much. It was more than he could take.

Ronan pushed his lips open, so his tongue could find Adam’s. Proprietary and demanding. Taking.

And Adam let him.

He let Ronan keep him from flying away on this magic carpet. He let Ronan tether him to the surface of the planet. 

He let him do everything. Anything.

If anyone knew what to do with Adam Parrish, it was Ronan Lynch. Ronan would give him what he needed. 

Ronan's muscles moved as he effortlessly tilted them both to the side, and Adam gripped tighter with his oiled legs. He felt like he was covered in lube, his whole body an organ of pleasure for Ronan to slide against. Ronan's scorching skin added sweat to the movement. Strong musk wafted from his underarms, the most potent aphrodisiac. 

Adam’s senses swelled and pulsed in the dark.

Teeth were tugging his ear lobe, an edge of pain and pleasure, when Adam felt something slick across his crack. 

He took in too much oxygen too fast, shocked by the unexpected sensation. 

His brain tried to scramble for what the wetness could be, but before he could make a coherent thought, Ronan’s oily finger was circling his sensitive hole and then pushing inside, inexorable.

"Hngghh." Adam was overwhelmed. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, unable to even say Ronan’s name. 

He felt the breaching of his body like it was the first time all over again. 

The first time Ronan had entered him was a moment that had changed Adam irrevocably. 

All his life he’d thought that _he_ would be the one doing the fucking, because he’d thought he was straight. 

And then Ronan had kissed him - and his whole world had broken wide open. 

The first time Ronan had fucked him, Adam remembered the thrill of being _shoved_ across the bed by the repeated force of Ronan’s cock. He loved the coiled power of Ronan's tireless body, focused only on him. In him. 

He'd felt the thrusts in the roof of his mouth, felt the hot bursts of pleasure in his ass. 

His body had come alive with awareness. It had discovered a new purpose. 

It was incredible that he might've never experienced this, without Ronan. He wouldn't even have known that he _needed_ it - needed Ronan’s cock in him to finally feel _full._

Now, in the darkness behind his eyelids, on the floating cloud mattress, the details were excruciating, exquisite. He could feel every inch of Ronan piercing him, hot and slow and insistent. 

He felt how his boneless body welcomed him and parted for him and enveloped him. 

Adam was stretched so tight around him, it felt like Ronan’s pulse was his own. The burn of it was divine, the invasion of it shocking. His focus on it was complete.

Adam’s brain was burnt clean of thoughts. 

It was as if a record had been hissing constantly in the background of his mind. A tense scratchy soundtrack to his life, that he had not even been aware of. 

And suddenly, the needle was lifted.

Everything slowed. 

Everything quieted. 

Adam _stilled_.

Ronan pushed his tongue into Adam’s mouth. 

Adam went from still to ecstatic. 

Ronan cock was in his ass and Ronan's tongue was in his mouth. Ronan was everywhere. 

Ronan, Ronan, _Ronan_. 

Adam was complete.

Time was fluid. It was endless - but it was also over too soon when Ronan came in him. 

The world was so sharply focused that Adam felt the surge and the throb and the gush of Ronan's body deep inside him, in perfect clarity.

He gave a sob of gratitude, at being filled with Ronan’s cum.

This was his reward. 

Adam had done well.

He hadn't even considered his own climax. 

Then Ronan's fingers dug hard into his bony hip as he finished coming, the pain a hot spike of anchoring. He felt Ronan's warm calloused hand move around his cock.

“ _Adam_ ,” Ronan said, in a complicated tone. It was loving and desperate and an order, all at the same time.

And like that was his cue, Adam came - in endless warm waves that flowed over him. 

They washed him up on bright new shores, though he was still floating in darkness.

*

They were on the couch, after getting cleaned up. Adam burrowed further into Ronan's neck, sitting in his lap, wrapped in a blanket. He enjoyed the warm solidity of Ronan under him, after the floating mass of cloud. 

Adam’s skin was still sensitised and buzzing. He shivered as he felt the phantom strokes of Ronan’s hands massaging him, and Ronan’s cock still fucking him. 

His belly was warm and full. Ronan had made his divine hot chocolate and Adam had demanded extra marshmallows. He felt like a child, wanting to be coddled and indulged.

The irony was, he'd never had real hot chocolate or extra marshmallows - or been coddled - when he'd actually _been_ a child.

When Ronan had put the afghan around him, Adam had ordered: ‘Tighter. Tighter. _Tighter_.’ until Ronan’s arms were iron bands, holding him almost painfully. Ronan was still unconsciously rocking him slightly.

Adam was perfectly content.

Ronan had kissed his eyes and his mouth and his cheeks, again and again, stroking his hair and his back. 

"Fuck. You're so goddamn beautiful, Adam. You're just perfect. I can't believe I get to have you. You felt so good."

Adam sighed. Ronan was pleased with him. Ronan loved him. Ronan had made him hot chocolate. Ronan was holding him tight. 

Adam had never felt so … cherished.

They stared into the crackling fire together. Adam felt a new _something_ in the silence. Another strand had been added to their bond. 

Another layer had been stripped off of Adam. 

And he was no longer afraid - of his father. Of anything. 

He felt the certainty of this in his chest, in his gut. Like he'd felt after he'd made the demon stop possessing him. He'd made the choice to let go of his fear: _It is not the boss of you._

It was such a change that Adam marvelled now at how heavy the fear had been. How much energy it had taken from him. 

He was as light as the cloud mattress.

And Ronan was right. Being blindfolded and restrained and controlled _had_ been a high. He felt drugged, blissed out. 

Adam wasn’t sure how much he _liked_ it, though, now that it was over. Being so out of control was ... befuddling. And so much of Adam's identity was his mind that, when he stopped thinking, he didn't know who he was. 

Ronan carded his fingers absently through his hair, bringing him back to where he was. 

Adam almost purred, and snuggled closer.

“Hey, Parrish,” Ronan murmured against his temple.

“Hmm?”

“How’s your neck spasm?”

Adam turned his head to look up at Ronan. It felt strange to be able to see, after so much time in the dark. 

“What?” he murmured, frowning, head still thick and fuzzy.

Ronan’s lips quirked with mischief, “How’s your neck spasm? After your boyfriend gave you an orgasm?”

Adam was already laughing when Ronan’s lips met his.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the puns on Adam’s name are based on the excellent characters created by [flowersalad](https://flowersalad.tumblr.com).
> 
> Thank you for letting me use Adam Pearish, Purrish and Bearish for Ronan’s dumb jokes (I sort of stole the idea of Pepsi from your Owl as well LOL). Your art is brilliant!


	13. The world felt enormous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're finally at the TRK Epilogue, folks.
> 
> And you've come a long way, Adam baby.
> 
> Fluffy n' smutty vignettes set around the epilogue, with a dash of angst and a pinch of D/s to round off the flavors.
> 
> TW: Mentions of abuse and homophobia, with some degrading language, because Robert Parrish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a monster chapter. Thank you for your patience during this pandemic.
> 
> CW: This chapter touches upon Adam thinking about his canon visit to his parents' in the Epilogue. There will be some discussion about his possible motivations for returning to the trailer and some internal monologue about him processing the conversation that happened.

Adam had done it. He'd graduated.

At the top of every class he was in. Even Latin, now that its best student had dropped out.

It had all paid off. He’d almost died doing it, but Aglionby had done what he'd meant for it to.

He remembered when a perfect GPA and getting a full ride to an Ivy League school were the favours he’d wanted from Glendower. That urgency and claustrophobia felt so far away now.

It had been another life. Another self.

And he hadn't needed Glendower, after all.

A part of him observed, dispassionately, as people he didn't know - or didn't remember - heartily pumped his hand and slapped his back and introduced him to other similarly-dressed people.

Success wasn't a story anyone wanted to be a part of until it was over, Adam thought bitterly, keeping the scorn out of his smile.

None of these people cared that he'd starved and worked and saved to get himself through these two years of Aglionby and into Harvard. They just wanted a photo of themselves shaking his hand.

But wasn't this what he'd always said he wanted? To be the centre of attention? To feel this sense of power, of accomplishment?

Truthfully, he couldn't feel much of anything right now.

He looked on as Blue kissed him on the cheek. As Gansey fist-bumped him, and then pulled him into a teary hug that smelled faintly of Cabeswater. As Henry, with his 1000-watt smile and hair, high-fived him. As Maura took a million candid photos of all of them.

Everyone was smiling. The whole cohort had graduated. Well - except for one person.

Calla came up to him, holding a glass of champagne (nothing as crass as sparkling wine at Aglionby). She almost smiled, which made her look pained, and barked out, “Where’s the snake?”

“At the Barns,” Adam replied.

Her sharply raised eyebrow looked judgemental.

Adam didn’t care.

Calla wasn't going to be the first to wonder at Ronan's non-appearance for Gansey's graduation and his valedictorian speech.

He and Ronan hadn’t spoken about making things... official. They weren't that kind of couple. But Ronan had picked him up after school enough when his shitbox gave out, and he’d kissed Ronan enough while being picked up, that there wasn’t a doubt in anyone’s mind that they were together.

There were the expected whispered slurs and snide remarks directed at him in the hallways. But there had also been enough interested glances with unspoken invitations behind them to surprise Adam, when he was awake enough to notice. Which, he admitted to himself, wasn’t very often.

A year ago, knowing that people were gossiping about him at Aglionby would've crushed Adam. Now it was merely a vague irritation buzzing around him. After defeating a demon and resurrecting his best friend and bagging the hottest guy in the place, Adam Parrish was far beyond being bothered by high school gossip.

They were taking the official pictures now, to the muffled pops of the sync flashes. Adam was front and centre in all of the photos, what with being a local scholarship student, the valedictorian and soon-to-be full-ride Harvardian. The board had really gotten their social responsibility dollars’ worth out of the hillbilly, and they weren't going to let anyone forget it.

He was not being cynical, he told himself. Aglionby had just been a convenient - and cold - springboard to success.

It was Adam who had done all the work.

Gansey was dragged away for boisterous crew team selfies, even if he hadn't rown with them in ages. He was always surrounded by people, though not necessarily friends. Suddenly bereft, Adam admitted to himself that without his Lynch and Gansey safety nets he was sadly alone - even in the midst of the entire school.

He wasn't going to be alone at Harvard, he resolved. He was done with being lonesome.

In that moment, Adam missed Ronan fiercely. _You’re getting sappy in your old age, Parrish_ , he told himself. But his boyfriend would’ve said something awful and funny and true, and all this boring pretension would suddenly become bearable - even amusing.

Things were so much more _real_ when Ronan was around, somehow.

Probably because Ronan was so real, despite being half-dream.

Ronan.

Ronan had panted hot and sinful in his ear, after he’d come inside Adam that morning, “For when you’re doing your nerdy schmoozing.”

Adam had understood.

It was a surreal moment to think about now, while surrounded by the entire Aglionby Board and shaking the disgustingly damp hand of the President. Thankfully they had to look at the camera instead of each other.

Adam didn’t think he could meet anyone’s eye right then.

Not while he was remembering himself grunting staccato into the mattress, as he stroked his own cock. And then spilling all over the sheets as he felt Ronan pulling his ass cheeks apart, so he could watch Adam flutter around him.

Standing on the sweltering lawn under the stifling marquee, Adam felt flushed and overheated in his full uniform and robes. He clenched, feeling voluptuously sore and missing the feel of Ronan.

Just as Ronan had intended, the bastard.

Christ. He needed to stop thinking about Ronan _right now_ or things were going to get embarrassing.

He mentally gritted his teeth and tried to smile in the direction of the camera.

Finally, blessedly, it was over. The men sweating through their expensive Italian suits and French colognes, and the women whose once-flawless makeup was running in the heat, were done with Adam.

More importantly, Adam was done with them and would never need to see them again. Hopefully.

He gingerly released his rictus, smacking his lips.

As he drank iced tea that was so sweet it hurt his teeth, he planned the rest of his day. Gansey and Henry were joining the traditional graduating class' Nino’s takeover. With Blue, they would then hunt down Ronan’s gift to them and attend the Vancouver gang’s graduation party. Adam was not expecting them to visit anytime soon.

Anyway, they’d spend a weekend at the Barns, before they started on their cross-country Americana tour.

He would have time for his own private celebration with Ronan tonight. After telling him his news.

Also, there were some things he was not quite done with.

Because - he'd invited his parents to graduation.

And they hadn’t shown.

Just as he had predicted.

*

Adam’s heart was beating double time as he speeded to the Barns. The BMW was thrilled at being given its head and responded enthusiastically.

He turned into the gates without slowing down, steering the clever car into a controlled powerslide, like Ronan had taught him. He laughed as he gleefully sprayed gravel all the way to the back, where he knew Ronan would be tilling the fields.

He almost couldn't sit still.

This was it.

He felt a tremendous anticipation clamouring in his chest, like when they'd found Cabeswater that very first time.

_It's starting._

He banged the car door shut - not that Ronan could hear him over the tractor's roar anyway.

Adam leant against the fence and took in the view. The yellow tractor was like a punctuation of man-made colour in the endless natural landscape. And the object of Adam’s affections was sitting inside it, gloriously shirtless.

Ronan Lynch. Greywaren. Farmer. Dreamer. Sex god. Adam grinned at himself as he climbed the fence and started walking towards the huge machine. When Ronan saw him, he pulled off his headphones and jumped down.

And Adam found that he was running, unable to wait a second longer.

"Got your piece of paper, loser…" Ronan began, and Adam threw himself into his arms and silenced him with his lips.

He kissed Ronan again and again and again, so desperately that they hardly counted as proper kisses.

Initially freezing from Adam almost climbing him in his enthusiasm, Ronan took control of the frantic kisses with a firm, sensual tongue, one hand buried in Adam’s hair and the other holding him tight around the waist.

Adam could smell the misty mossiness of Ronan's sun-warmed skin. For someone who never used deodorant and did so much manual labour, Ronan always smelt so damn _good_. It was unfair. His sweaty musk merged with the peatiness of growing things and soil, and for just a moment, Adam was walking through dappled Cabeswater with Ronan again.

Unfortunately, they'd lost Cabeswater before he could hold hands with Ronan in it. Or make out with Ronan in it. Cabeswater would've liked that. Its Greywaren and Magician together.

They broke apart for breath. Ronan smoothed his hair off his face and said, "What got into _you_ , Parrish?"

"Yes," Adam said, breathless and incomprehensible, arms still around Ronan's neck.

"Yes?” Ronan frowned, “Yes what?"

"Yes, I'll move in with you."

Ronan froze.

Past-Adam would've been stricken at that reaction, wondering if he'd been presumptuous or imposing, or if the offer had expired. Adam now was so far beyond all that, it was laughable to remember. And for anyone to think Ronan would not want Adam in every way, all the time, was even more ridiculous.

Ronan had brought it up months ago. And then, just like after their first kiss, had given Adam whatever space he needed to come to a decision.

And now Ronan's face broke into that loose, unguarded smile that was no longer rare.

He picked Adam up and swung him round and round, cursing joyfully.

Adam laughed a little unsteadily, face hot with emotion. He clung to Ronan, wrapping his legs around him.

They kissed again. Ronan threw his head back and whooped loudly.

"You're _really_ happy about this, huh?" Adam said, surprised and pleased. Matthew was usually the only openly enthusiastic Lynch.

Ronan snorted.

"Fuck me. Adam fucking Parrish just said he’s moving in with me. I want to shout it from the _goddamn motherfucking moon_ ," Ronan said, fiercely joyful, emphasising each word with a pull of Adam's hair.

"It's just for your cooking, Lynch - let's be clear," Adam murmured, his index finger tracing the sharp line of Ronan's nose and eyebrow.

"So that really _is_ the way to a man's heart? Way to be a misogynistic cliche, asshole." Ronan couldn't stop grinning, all brilliant teeth and blazing eyes.

"Yes," Adam agreed primply, "And also for easy access to what's under your skirts."

In response, Ronan kissed him all over his face, wet, loud and irritating.

"Lynch...mmph..stop it. Yuck!" Adam tried to get down but Ronan wasn't having any of it.

Opal had come running when she heard Adam's voice and was skittering around them now.

Adam wrapped around Ronan tighter, koala-like, their faces pressed together as they looked down at her.

"Adam’s got something to tell you, runt," Ronan said, unable to keep the smugness from his voice.

“I’m moving in here, Opal,” Adam felt just a little giddy at saying it out loud.

Opal continued to look quizzical, so Adam rephrased it: “I’m going to live here at the Barns, with you and Ronan.”

"So, you won’t go away everyday?" she asked, as if to get things perfectly clear.

"Not during the summer. Just to work and back. Would you like that?"

"Yes!” she grabbed Adam's hand, jumping up and down on her backwards-bent goat legs.

Then she stopped suddenly and frowned, “You want your watch back?" Her face was wary, like the answer might have a bearing on her opinion of Adam moving in.

"No. You can still keep it," Adam laughed.

"Okay," she said, relieved. She kissed the back of Adam’s hand quickly and skipped away, shouting, “I’m going to the stream.”

Chainsaw, who had been watching from a nearby roof, flew around Adam twice, welcoming him, and took off after Opal.

For all that they were enemies, they were still friends.

"Let’s go get your shit, Parrish," Ronan said, putting him down but not letting go. He dragged him towards the car.

"What? Now?"

"Yeah," Ronan rolled his eyes. "You waiting for some planetary alignment or something?"

"Not now. I have stuff to do first."

Ronan's jaw tightened but he didn't pause in his strides.

Adam continued talking a little too quickly, because he needed to make some things clear. And he didn’t want Ronan to say anything about Adam's plans for the evening:

"I'm going to split all the bills and stuff with you though. You probably don’t even know how much you spend every month. But I’m gonna figure it out and then pay for half."

"Shitting Christ, nerd. You can do whatever the fuck you want, as long as you wake up in my bed every morning," Ronan said.

"Our bed," Adam corrected, spinning around to block Ronan's path, eyebrow raised pointedly. His heart was thudding at how bold he was being. And how easy it felt to say it out loud.

 _Our bed._ His and Ronan’s bed.

In response, Ronan pushed him against the hot metal of the BMW, trapping him with his hips.

"Yes," he whispered into Adam's good ear, as he pressed into him lasciviously, "our bed."

And then he slid to his knees.

Adam thought, for a fleeting moment: _we're out in the open, it's broad daylight, someone might see._ But then he caught Ronan's eye, lust-dark even in the bright sunlight, as he worked open both their flies. Adam placed a hand on the lovely shorn skull in wordless response.

And then he stopped worrying about anything at all, as Ronan Lynch's mouth welcomed him home.

*

As Adam drove past Nino’s that evening, he noted the line of expensive cars parked outside. He could imagine the ruckus the graduating class were causing.

Blue had made sure she was not working today, or one of the Raven boys would’ve ended up wearing the famous Nino’s iced tea, courtesy of her temper. Even with everyone in class knowing she was Gansey’s girlfriend, it was unlikely that someone in the condescending cohort wouldn’t've pissed her off about something. Aglionby boys roaming in packs were infinitely more insulting.

Adam was not nostalgic about going to Nino’s with his class, nor about Aglionby traditions. Maybe if it had just been Gansey and Blue. And Ronan. But as for the rest of the school, he’d already left them behind.

It was a quickly fading memory.

He just had one more piece of his past to take care of, and then he was ready to look to the future, and nowhere else.

As he drove out of town towards the trailer park, he rummaged through his feelings - more curious than concerned. He wasn't nervous or stressed or unsure, surprisingly. He just wanted to get this over with, so he could go back home and get on with his life.

The terrible techno blaring from the speakers changed tempo, jolting him out of his reverie. _Outside of yourself_ , he heard Persephone’s small voice say. Adam took a deep, centering breath.

The car smelled of Ronan.

A few nights ago, in lieu of attending prom, he and Ronan had gone on a picnic. It had been a magical evening, lit by dreamt fireflies and floating orbs - until the mosquitoes had forced them back into the car.

Adam had fucked him endlessly - first with his tongue, then his fingers and finally his cock, causing Ronan to come twice, all over the backseat.

No wonder the car smelled of Ronan.

Of home.

Adam drove up the dusty trail.

No Cabeswater, no Ronan and no Gansey with him, this time. No one but Adam. And his memories.

He felt like a returning time traveller – he had journeyed far and wide since he’d left these shores. Lived eons in the last year.

The past was a country you could never go back to, and Adam was very glad of that.

He sat in the car for a minute, looking at the trailer steps. He saw the events of that fateful night play out in his mind's eye, distant as a film reel. He saw that Adam, abused and confused. Dizzily trying to stand, like a newborn colt, except he had already been broken.

How he had feared his father's fists, his father's gun, his father's hatred. How he had wept with bewilderment at his mother's indifference. His belief in his fundamental unlovability was one of the bitter truths of his life.

He had not thought his ugly diseased roots could grow anything good.

But he had new roots now.

He had been reborn on the ley line, with the help of Cabeswater. Just like Gansey.

Even without Cabeswater, the power lived on in him.

 _Magician_ , he heard Ronan's voice whisper, proud and confident, never doubting him.

Magician. Valedictorian. Harvardian.

Friend. Lover. Psychic.

Adam Parrish was all of those things - and more.

Above all, he was unafraid.

He got out of the car.

*

They were spending their last night at St. Agnes.

Adam couldn't believe it was still the same day as graduation. Some days had so many more hours in them than others.

They lay facing each other, lit by afterglow and the many, many candles they'd found while cleaning up.

Adam had had trouble with power outages for months, because of the ley line surging. Paranoid about not being able to study at night, he'd bought, dirt-cheap, a huge bag of candles wrongly delivered to the church. And then promptly forgot all about it.

It'd been Ronan's idea to consume them rather than transport them. They'd used Adam's last two sputtering matches to light several dozen white tapers, getting wax on every possible flat surface but the floor. It didn't matter. Adam was going to keep only the fridge and microwave.

His dingy attic room had been transformed into a magical glowing grotto.

Ronan Lynch loved light in all its forms.

There was no breeze and the wide open shutters hardly made the golden flames flicker.

Adam's eyes followed his thumb, as it stroked Ronan’s highlighted cheekbone.

This was the first time Adam was seeing Ronan in candlelight. It suited him. Any dim light suited Ronan, actually. The paleness of his creamy Celtic skin glowed like a beacon, with his black hair and tattoo adding to the colours of the night.

They lay on Adam's shitty mattress, which had seen a lot of their relationship unfold. While most of their firsts had happened at the Barns, Adam clearly remembered Ronan sprawled naked right here, stunned and stunning, after they'd had 'proper' sex for the first time.

"Remember how we went ‘all the way’ here? For the first time? I still haven't figured out what to call it," he confessed, suddenly wondering what term Ronan used.

"Jesus. Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Anal sex sounds so … clinical. Like someone in a lab coat is saying it. Penetrative sex sounds worse. I can see Henry sending us a pop-up card saying 'Congratulations on the penetrative sex, my friends.'"

They both grinned. That sounded exactly like Henry.

"Newsflash. It's called fucking, you Ivy-league moron," Ronan rolled his eyes, "It was the first time you fucked me."

"But that sounds so...crass. It wasn't just fucking."

"The first time you made love to me, then." Ronan fluttered his eyelashes coyly.

"Okay. Okay. Shut up."

"The first time your meat was inside my man cave," Ronan drawled, with a pornographic Southern accent.

"Stop!" Adam wailed, shuddering.

They snickered together like idiots.

"Whatever you want to call it, doesn't change how fucking badass it was," Ronan whispered, real and rare, thumb on Adam's bottom lip.

Adam rolled his eyes, unable to stop himself from blushing - and from being a shithead. He didn't get many opportunities to make fun of Ronan when it came to sex.

"Well, _anything_ would seem badass compared to the first time you fucked m- mmmph…".

“Asshole,” Ronan hissed, hand covering Adam’s mouth.

Adam knew from experience that licking his palm wouldn't make Ronan stop. First of all, he grew up with two brothers, and second of all, Adam licking anything of his was just fine with Ronan.

They tussled briefly, knees and elbows painfully banging together on the narrow mattress. Ronan had him trapped in a wrestling hold shamefully quickly, though Adam would like to think that he hadn't really tried very hard to stop it.

Why would he? Being held tightly by Ronan, being overpowered by him, feeling acres of warm skin against his own, were things Adam hungered for incessantly. The only way this could get better was if he was completely enveloped by Ronan's solidness on all sides. Wrapped in a custom Ronan Lynch blanket.

"Feeling nostalgic, Parrish? Ronan panted against his temple, "We can take this mattress home and frame it and put it on the wall in our room: 'Here hangeth the first place Adam Parrish came in Ronan Lynch's ass'."

His stomach swooped at Ronan saying _home_ and _our room_ so casually. As if Adam already lived with him.

Instead he said: "Jesus. You drove me crazy that morning - in that goddamn suit, with your tattoo showing over the collar. Singing hymns at mass like such a _good boy_." Adam dropped his voice seductively, reaching back and tracing Ronan's hole with a teasing finger, "I really wanted to drag you up here and come in your ass."

"So, in honour of you fucking me for the first time on this shitty mattress," Ronan murmured, equally seductively, "you should come in my ass tonight. For old time's sake."

"It's not like I'm never gonna do it again," Adam said, pushing back against Ronan’s swelling length.

"It'll be very difficult once we hang the mattress on the wall."

They kissed through their laughter, but Ronan's smiles turned into gasps when Adam started fingering him in earnest.

Adam spent a focused few minutes on the delicious crease where ass met thighs, pulling hard on satisfying mouthfuls of sensitive flesh as Ronan writhed under him. He finally spread Ronan's lovely cheeks, licking a long stripe along his deep hot crack and hearing him whimper in anticipation, hands fisting around threadbare sheets.

If it was their last time worshipping each other above this church, Adam was going to make it count.

Plus, he’d learned a lot since that New Year's day.

So he did come inside Ronan, but he didn't let Ronan come.

Instead he slipped several digits into his sloppy ass and began viciously fingering him.

Ronan, initially thrilled at having Adam's hand buried in him again, soon realised he wasn't going to be finishing anytime soon.

"Fuckin' Christ, Adam. _Please_ ," he twisted around to try and look up at him, voice strained.

"Sure," Adam gritted out, putting his whole weight across Ronan's shoulders and pushing him back into the mattress. He thrust into him even more roughly. "Just call Stop."

He snorted in amusement as he heard a muffled 'You _bastard'_ as Ronan bit into a pillow. Ronan would always want to play this game.

He very much enjoyed the sight of Ronan's luscious thighs spreading wider with increasing desperation, his rounded ass wantonly fucking back onto Adam's lube-wet fingers.

As he slowed all the way down, leading Ronan away from the threat of orgasm, he rested his head on his broad, sweaty back. It was quite the view laid out before him: the roads of the tattoo leading to two perfect mounds gilt-edged with candlelight, and Adam's hand wedged in their valley.

He leisurely slid various glistening fingers into Ronan, scientifically observing his reactions. Adam could see now how his whole hand would fit into Ronan someday, just like Ronan wanted. They were half way to it already, he thought, as he wetly corkscrewed four knuckles inside him with a visceral feeling of satisfaction.

"Having fun, asshole?" Ronan panted out, at Adam playing with his body.

"Isn't that the point?" Adam asked, innocently. "Why? Aren't you having fun? Should I stop?" He stilled his hand, and smirked as Ronan bucked back onto it with an instinctive sound of protest.

He amused himself thoroughly, ignoring the anguished whining that pitched higher and higher in his good ear pressed against Ronan's dewy skin.

Adam could live on this brink forever, knowing that Ronan's most primal impulse was being kept in check by his authority. It was like preventing a thoroughbred racehorse from crossing the finish line. Two-hundred-odd pounds of sleek, muscled beast under him was straining and trembling in well-trained restraint, the reins wrapped taut around Adam's hand.

It was the biggest fucking rush.

Adam slid two loving fingers into Ronan's mouth, both as reward and torture, letting him suckle on them noisily. Ronan loved getting filled by Adam at both ends. Adam liked that too, when Ronan did it to him. But as he didn't have Ronan's hand fetish, it just wasn't the same. He envied Ronan his kink sometimes.

By the time Adam finally relented, his arm was aching and his cock was close to exploding. But it was worth it, as Ronan cried out long and loud when he was finally allowed to come all over the paper-thin sheets.

He felt Ronan spasming around his fingers, as he continued to press ruthlessly against his plump prostate. And then Ronan finally sobbed out, for the first time ever, _"_ Stop _. Stop_. Please, Jesus, Adam. God _."_

Adam stopped.

And groaned in relief as he splattered the wonderfully well-used rump before him with his cum.

He left Ronan a sticky, shivering mess, whimpering pitifully into the mattress.

For old time's sake.

That night, the Dreamer dreamt of godfingers of sunlight in an ancient forest, as he lay spent and exhausted against his lover's chest. But the Magician lay awake, looking at the moonbeams dance across his once-so-familiar raftered ceiling.

All the emotions of today were a dull, heavy pain in Adam’s chest.

If Cabeswater had still been around, Adam would have transferred this weight to it, and it would have rolled it away, leaving him light and free.

And then, it would've shown him images to say: Something is growing again. Something that had been warped and choked, like a stunted tree. He imagined green shoots forcing their way out of cracks in grey concrete and reaching towards the sun. He saw leaves shedding.

His heart was learning to love. It was also learning to let go.

It hurt.

After cleaning Ronan up and blowing out all the candles, Adam had held him close in the silvery darkness - stroking his damp skin and murmuring soothing praise in his ear, as he twitched involuntarily.

And he'd thought of how painful it was going to be to leave Ronan behind.

On their way here, Ronan had said "The three stooges found the car. The maggot went hypersonic on my voicemail."

Sure enough, when Adam replayed the chaotic message, Blue was screaming and Henry was whooping and Gansey, holding the phone as she revved the powerful V-8 non-engine, was shouting: "You're unbelievable, Ronan. Just - how did you even think of this, you marvellous thing!"

"It was a mistake," Ronan had shrugged, "I was supposed to dream the whole Pig."

Adam wondered if Ronan was thinking about Kavinsky. If Ronan felt alone, being the only one of his kind now - as far as he knew, anyway.

Lonesome.

It was going to hurt even more to see Ronan _being_ left behind. By all of them.

Ronan must've been thinking about it even as he’d sent the three of them to the car.

He was learning to let go as well.

He held Ronan tighter.

Love hurt.

This was not a new sentiment by any means. But love was a concept that Adam had only recently begun to experience, so this was more along the lines of a revelation than a cliché to him.

He thought he’d probably loved his parents, until they had beaten it out of him with words and fists. Maybe he still did? Is that why he went to the trailer today?

No. He went to end something old, and try to begin something new. And something _had_ been resolved. Confronted. And he knew that, with his father at least, there would be no reconciliation. Robert would've said that it was because Adam had made things ugly.

Adam knew what his dad had meant by that, because he knew his dad. Like he knew the scar tissue on his body. Like he knew the ghost whine in his dead ear. And the sneering voice in his head.

What was ugly was Adam pressing charges.

What was uglier was Adam driving his boyfriend's Beemer.

He knew the words and the slurs that Robert hadn't dared to say to this new Adam. But he could fill in the blanks. He'd heard his dad say all of it enough to be able to recall the flavour of the unsaid sentiments.

Robert had not just taken a swipe at Adam being with a man, making him the worst kind of slut in his eyes.

It was the underlying accusation that Adam was with Ronan because he was rich. That Adam was, in fact, selling himself for a soft plush life. Adam had always had aspirations of becoming a fancy bitch boy, according to Robert. Ashamed to do hard work like honest folk. Always thinking he was better than all of them.

But Adam sensed an even more treacherous layer to the subtext.

Namely, that Adam wasn't actually into men at all.

That he only took a cock up the ass because Ronan had money.

So not only was Adam a whore, he was an unnatural whore. Who went against the instincts of how a normal man should behave, and let himself choke on a dick in exchange for Ronan letting him drive his Beemer.

This was how Adam had made things ugly, for his parents.

He could recite the rest of their lines as if from a script.

How he'd made them ashamed of him and his lifestyle. How they were embarrassed at the questions people asked them, as he pranced around town flaunting his perversions shamelessly. How they were good respectable people, who couldn't hold their heads up high because of him.

And how all this was only to be expected, now that no one was putting Adam to rights, like Robert would've.

How he continued to surpass himself as a disappointment to them.

The irony was that his parents truly believed that being with a man was more shameful, and abnormal, than beating one’s child.

And they were never going to change.

But Adam had made the effort to knit back the unravelled threads of his family.

Ronan would never understand why he did it. Most people wouldn’t, maybe.

Adam knew it needed to be done. The same way he knew where the ley line seeped and how to repair it. How he could feel it blocked and then flow.

He had done this to heal himself, to become whole. To one day be a better father, if he ever had children with Ronan.

He had needed to defeat _all_ the demons in his head.

So, yes, Adam rejoiced in the pain in his chest now. Pain meant you were alive. That you could still feel.

Some pain made the pleasure even sweeter.

“I am happy to have you, Adam Parrish's previously cold dead lump of a heart,” he thought, feeling Ronan Lynch’s pulse beating warm and alive against his own.

*

Adam woke to the bells of St. Agnes the next morning.

For the last time, he thought to himself, looking at the candle stubs dotted around the room and remembering the previous night. He had thought he'd feel nostalgic, but he just felt excited.

Ronan came out of the bathroom, and leaned against the wall, looking at Adam for a long moment. They were both stark naked in the warm room and bright morning sunlight.

“I’m gonna quit all my jobs except Boyd’s,” Adam said, apropos of nothing.

Ronan walked towards the mattress.

“If I’m not paying rent here and Harvard’s giving me more than enough for expenses, I don’t need to work as much,” Adam explained.

Ronan sat down next to him silently, ice-blue eyes brilliant in the light reflecting off the whitewashed walls.

Adam’s mind was already whirring with all the plans he had. He needed to draw up a revised budget spreadsheet and talk to Ronan about repairs to the farm vehicles. They should think up new ways to wake the sleeping animals. He should also try to somehow persuade Ronan to understand the paperwork and filing systems.

“Also,” he continued, “I need to figure out how much I can spend on parts for my shitbo-” Ronan’s mouth covered his.

Adam was kissed so unbearably tenderly that all the breath was stolen out of his lungs. He was gathered up into strong arms and lifted onto Ronan's lap and his skin was softly stroked again and again, like he was some rare and precious thing.

His brain went offline, overwhelmed by emotion and sensation.

Ronan’s mouth finally released him, and he was pressed firmly against a solid chest. For a blissful while, he was aware of nothing but Ronan’s sleep-warmed skin and measured heartbeat.

Presently, Ronan’s baritone inquired in his good ear, “What were you saying?”

“I can’t remember,” Adam mumbled, melted and stupid with love.

“Good,” Ronan said, gently.

They didn’t manage to leave St. Agnes until quite late that afternoon.

*

Adam was placing the entirety of his worldly possessions into the wardrobe ("A whole wardrobe? I need, like, one shelf, Lynch" "It's an _armoire_ , Parrish" "Pretentious jerk" Adam had murmured, against his lips) that Ronan had given him for his use months ago. He'd used all his plastic baskets to bring over everything he owned. He really needed to buy a suitcase for Harvard.

He should see if the thrift store had one.

The lady there knew him, and would keep him informed if he asked her.

Naomi had had a soft spot for him ever since the day his dad had shoved his thirteen-year-old self into the store roughly and told her to give Adam the cheapest clothes, two sizes too large, "'cos this little shit grows so fast, he ain't worth the dollars we spend on him".

He’d bought his two sets of Aglionby uniform from her: one summer, one winter. She’d held the ones in his size for him for months, sure he would get in.

Naomi had been the only one proud of him when he’d gotten his partial scholarship.

All Robert had cared about was whether his new school hours would affect the amount of money he brought home.

His mother hadn’t cared at all.

Speaking of his parents…

Ronan hadn’t asked him how his visit had gone.

And Adam sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him.

He’d come back in one piece, like he’d promised Ronan he would. That was enough, for now.

He really didn’t want to spoil his first official day at the Barns fighting with Ronan about it. They’d fought enough the day Adam had told Ronan about his plans.

He’d wanted to tell Ronan ever since he was named valedictorian (a foregone conclusion, but still, the announcement made it official), but it had never seemed like the right time. There was, in fact, very little time. As finals got closer, Adam spent longer studying at St. Agnes. He even cut down on his work hours.

But still, he could've told Ronan while they were lazing on the sofa after dinner, or lying in bed after sex, or sitting on the porch with Opal, or making lunch in the kitchen, or holding hands in the car. But these were all rare and precious oases of peace in the midst of his stressful life, and Adam didn't want to spoil them.

Because telling Ronan what he’d planned would definitely spoil them.

Not to mention set off a nuclear-device level fight.

Funnily enough, it was Ronan who had brought up the subject.

They were lying on the roof of one of the barns one warm night, watching the stars wheel overhead.

Adam had been asking Ronan’s opinion about a Latin quote he wanted to use in his valedictorian speech, when Ronan abruptly said, “I'm not coming to graduation.”

Adam paused. And considered. And found that he wasn’t disappointed. Surprisingly.

“Okay,” he said, simply.

There was silence for a while.

Then Adam braced for the explosion and made his own declaration:

“I'm going to invite my folks to graduation.”

Ronan froze. Adam couldn’t actually see him, as he was pointedly looking up at the sky, but he could hear Ronan’s breath catch and still.

“But they won't come,” he continued.

He heard Ronan breathe out then, in relief maybe.

 _Might as well rip off the band-aid in one go_ , thought Adam.

“So, I'll go to the trailer after."

Another long silence.

“Why?” Ronan finally asked, clipped and determinedly calm.

Adam had been expecting this.

“I need to say things - to my dad. And I need to see if - I can stay in touch with them. Or something. Something … normal.”

“Them not coming to your graduation when you’re valedictorian sounds like they’re being really _fucking_ clear about, y'know, not wanting to see you ever again,” Ronan snarled, sitting up.

Adam sat up too. “Yeah - but....”

“I'm pretty sure it doesn't mean, ‘Hey come and visit us when you're in the goddamn neighborhood, son that we used to use as a punching bag after taking your lunch money’,” Ronan interrupted, doing a nasty but accurate impression of Adam’s dad’s voice.

“Ronan…” Adam started.

Ronan slid off the roof without looking at him.

Adam heard the angry thud of his boots landing on the packed earth. It was too far to jump, actually - unless you were Ronan Lynch and you were angry, Adam thought with an internal sigh, as he took a much saner route down.

Well, so far Ronan was reacting exactly as Adam had anticipated. The only thing left to see was whether he would cause some damage with his fists, rather than just his words.

“If I’d known you were such a sucker for punishment, we could've had some actual fun with it, Parrish,” Ronan spat out of the darkness, sounding both nasty and hurt. Adam made out his dark silhouette leaning against the lighter wall of one of the barns.

Well, at least he hadn’t stormed off, Adam thought.

“I need more than just closure with my folks. Ronan, but it's a start.”

“Remember when that fucker was found guilty by a court of law for busting up the ear of his only son? Was that not enough closure for you?” This was a Ronan incandescent with rage.

“I’ll be safe,” Adam said. He needed Ronan to believe his complete surety about that.

“Just because you aren’t afraid of him anymore doesn’t make him safe. There’s going to be no thorn in his palm this time, Adam,” Ronan bit out, scathing but sincere.

“You either believe that I know what I'm doing, or you don't,” Adam said flatly.

That was what it came down to. That was the crux of it.

Ronan ran a frustrated hand over his scalp.

“Let me come with you,” he said in a different tone.

“No,” Adam wasn't being angry or stubborn - just very clear. He had to do this himself.

“You don’t always need to do everything the hard way, Adam. Or by yourself. I’ll drop you off at the beginning of the drive and wait for you. They won’t even know I’m there,” Ronan sounded remarkably reasonable.

He recognised that Ronan was trying to negotiate, to compromise. And he just wanted to make sure Adam was safe. But it didn’t really matter. Because the answer was still -

“No.”

Ronan punched the side of the barn.

Adam was expecting something like this, but the suddenness of it was still shocking. The reverb of the wood alone made him wince. He could imagine how much it had hurt Ronan’s hand.

They stood there, acres apart.

“Me being the Magician isn’t about Cabeswater anymore,” Adam said, finally. He wasn’t sure if Ronan was in a place to even hear him, but he needed to say his piece. “You’re the one who’s always telling me that. My dad will never again lay a hand on me, ever again. Trust me.”

Ronan’s fist was still pressed against the weathered siding. He gave no indication that he’d heard Adam.

“You gotta let me go Ronan. I can protect myself.”

He gingerly reached out to Ronan’s tense body.

“Don't touch me,” Ronan said, softly, dangerously.

These were not words Adam thought would ever be directed at him, and in that tone.

“Okay. But why not?” he kept his voice neutral. Factual.

“I need to be angry at you right now.” Ronan pressed his forehead against the wall, keeping his fist company.

Yeah. It was hard for them to be mad at each other when they were touching.

“I’ll come back. In one piece,” he promised Ronan quietly. And then, even more softly, “I’ll always come back to you.”

Adam sat on the fence nearby, mud spattered and wet. At some point, it had begun to drizzle and they hadn’t even noticed. Adam hadn’t, anyway.

At least the rain was warm, as it ran down both their faces.

After a million years, Ronan turned and walked towards the house. Adam followed him.

They took separate showers. Ronan pointedly took his plate to the living room and turned on the TV.

It was only when they stripped down to the skin, like they always did when they got into bed, that Ronan finally relented.

He let Adam take the splinters out of his knuckles and disinfect them. He'd gone around the whole evening with them biting into his skin.

They still hadn't said a word to each other.

When they finally lay down, Ronan spooned Adam in the dark and let out a long breath against the back of his neck. Adam took his arm, wrapped it around himself and fell asleep, both exhausted and relieved.

They had figured some stuff out that day.

They couldn’t kill each other’s demons. But they could let each other go do battle with them, and trust that the victor would return safely.

Still, it was nice to know that he no longer had to be Adam Parrish, army of one.

It was him and Ronan, against the world.

There was no one else he’d rather have at his side.

*

Adam was all moved in.

That night - the first night of them officially _living together, holy shit_ , Adam kept thinking to himself in wonder, because he was pathetic - Ronan sat propped against his chest in bed.

He was flicking through the photos on Adam's new phone - his graduation present to his boyfriend. According to Ronan, he had saved up for it using a swear jar. According to Opal, Ronan had stuffed a twenty into the jar every week. Adam suspected that it had only given him more of an excuse to swear.

Adam, valedictorian and future Harvardian, was obsessively peeling the sunburnt skin off his boyfriend’s (his _live-in_ boyfriend’s - Christ, he was beyond help) shoulders and neck.

It was something they had started when Ronan began working shirtless in the fields. It was an intimate, disgusting, probably unhygienic but oddly satisfying ritual.

No matter how much Adam reminded him to wear sunblock, Ronan wouldn't. Nor would he let Adam put aloe on him. He hated the stickiness on his skin, Adam knew. Stubborn asshole. Stubborn, stupid asshole. He told Ronan as much.

“Jesus. Don't nag, Parrish.”

“Sorry for not wanting you to die of skin cancer.”

“Pretty sure skin cancer’s not gonna be what kills me,” Ronan scoffed and Adam bopped him on the head in response.

"Sunburn's gonna make your tattoo fade, you know," he said, hoping vanity would do what common sense couldn't.

Ronan didn't reply. Which was a promising response.

"Can't you dream yourself some non-sticky sunblock?" Adam asked, giving the question the tone of a challenge.

He got back to his boyfriend duties. And Ronan continued flicking through all the crew team shots of Gansey, snorting and thumbing the phone screen like it had insulted his mother.

"Hey, careful with that, shithead," Adam said, "I won't let you buy me another."

Ronan stopped swiping suddenly. Adam saw the photo of his own flushed face, as he shook President Bell's clammy hand. He told Ronan what had been going through his mind at that moment.

"Well, they’re going to print this in the brochure for sure, Parrish. The moment their Perfect Valedictorian," Ronan emphasised the words as he nosed playfully at Adam's jaw, "was thinking about how well his high-school dropout boyfriend fucks his tight little ass."

Ronan tried to snake his hand under Adam’s thigh, ready to go again. But Adam was still too sensitive and spent. He pushed Ronan’s arm away and said, "Focus."

They laughed at the crazy faces and shapes the boys made as they jumped in the air as a class, black robes flapping about them like ravens’ wings. Adam looked at himself, smiling gleefully in his valedictorian sash as he threw his cap high, and he had to admit he looked pretty happy. Even if he hadn’t been able to _feel_ it at the time.

They had reached one of Maura's snaps, in which Adam and Gansey were on either side of Blue, kissing her hard on the cheeks. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was laughing. He felt rather than heard Ronan’s breath hitch.

"Hey," he said, speaking against the angry red skin of his shoulder, "we missed you, but we get why you didn't come."

Ronan made a wet but scornful sound, "It’s not that."

"What then?"

But Ronan just reached out and swiped to the next picture, which meant he wasn't going to talk about it.

"Look at this fucker looking at you," he growled, stopping at a photo of Tad staring at Adam hungrily, when he should've been looking at the camera.

"So? You used to look at me too."

"Exactly. So I know what it means."

Adam snorted. Tad wasn't worth wasting a single thought on, as far as he was concerned.

"He's almost drooling," Ronan continued, jealousy flooding his voice with vitriol, "If you'd told him to, he would've dropped to his knees and sucked you off right there in the middle of the school green. He's probably fantasized about you enough in your uniform."

"What you're doing here is called _projecting_ , Lynch."

"Fuck you, Parrish. I’m just saying, I know that look. I've seen it enough on my face."

"Unless you were looking at a mirror while simultaneously staring at me, that would've been physically impossible."

"Did he speak to you?" Ronan continued, as if he hadn't spoken.

"Yeah. He said his usual lame shit and then asked me if I was going to the Vancouver party."

What Tad had actually said was: ‘Nice speech, Parrish. Looks like they didn’t make you valedictorian just because you got into Harvard on a poor ticket, huh? Ha ha.’

Adam rolled his eyes in remembrance. Really, the guy had no game whatsoever. His complete cluelessness was an achievement in itself.

"Did he know you were leaking my cum out of your ass the whole time?" Ronan demanded.

" _Jesus_ , Ronan," Adam laughed out, unable to help the blush heating up his face. The sentiment was uncannily close to what Adam himself had been thinking at the time.

“What did you say, about the party?” Ronan inquired coldly.

"I told him I wasn’t going because I was doing you."

"What?" Ronan whipped his head all the way around so fast it must've hurt.

"He asked me if I was doing something better than the Vancouver party and I said yes. You. I said I was doing you."

He grinned at the memory. Tad’s face had been priceless. Adam wished he had a photo of _that_.

Ronant looked at him in disbelief for a moment, before smiling like the edge of a knife.

"Parrish, you fucking badass. What did he say?"

"Nothing. Just stood there gaping like a dying fish, as I walked away," Adam smirked.

They looked at each other for a moment and burst into laughter.

"That dumb fuck," Ronan said, and kissed Adam, quick and pleased.

"I was thinking that you should've been there," he told Ronan, "And then I thought no, you'd break his jaw."

"I would if I thought he had the slightest chance with you," Ronan huffed, dismissively.

"What makes you think he doesn't?" Adam asked, surprised.

"Because Parrish you are, more than slightly, sapiosexual. And like I said before, Tad's a dumb fuck."

"Well, I'm with you, so I'm obviously _not_ sapiosexual," Adam retorted, pissed off at Ronan labelling him so blithely.

At that, Ronan leaned up and said filthily into his ear:

_nec non in corpore nostro_

_pectora sunt potiora manu:_

_vigor omnis in illis_

(In the make-up of human beings,

intelligence counts for more than our hands,

and that is our true strength)

And Adam melted in a searing flash of desire.

" _Fuck_. Is that Ovid?" he whispered furiously.

 _God_ , he moaned internally. How could Ronan just pull these perfectly-apt lines in Latin out of his goddamn brain?

How Adam wanted to _fuck_ those brains out right now.

Ronan smirked arrogantly, as if to say: _See_?

Then he got up and straddled Adam, saying:

_fas est et ab hoste doceri_

Adam translated in his mind: One should learn even from one's enemies.

"Jesus Christ, Ronan."

How much Latin did he have memorised and at his fingertips? How much must he have read to begin with, in his own time, with no one prompting him. And not just Latin either, Adam thought, remembering Ronan's quip about the word blue in Greek. This was the version of Ronan that was the true student. Schooling Adam in the only subject he'd bothered to work at.

Adam could _feel_ every bit of blood in his body rushing to between his thighs. If he'd been standing up, it would've made him dizzy. Ronan could feel it too, he was sure.

And it wasn't as if Ronan had an eidetic memory either, Adam thought, working himself up into a paroxysm of white-hot lust. He'd slogged at Latin tirelessly, because of Cabeswater. He also happened to be brilliant at it. His creator's brain seemed wired for these elegant and poetic seminal languages.

Adam didn't know if it was the thought of Ronan's hard work or scholarly brilliance or god-like powers that was turning him on more.

How Adam wanted to _be_ fucked by Ronan right now.

"Ovid gives good advice, you know," Ronan nuzzled under his good ear, "I followed it with you and it worked." He recited against Adam's throat:

_Intret amicitiae nomine tectus amor._

(Let love steal in disguised as friendship)

Adam was breathing in gasps now, painfully erect and straining.

He dug his fingers into Ronan’s built shoulders and dragged their mouths together, fierce with unbearable need. Needing to be buried in Ronan’s body somehow, somewhere: his tongue in his mouth and his cock in his ass, or his tongue in his ass and his cock in his mouth. Needing to somehow possess this savagely handsome man with this exceptional brain.

Adam needed to come deep inside him soon or he would burst.

Ronan poured lube on Adam's fingers and pushed them against himself. They bit at each other’s mouths, as Adam circled his wet hole, fingertips catching on a rim still slightly swollen from last night.

Ronan murmured blandly, as if giving a lecture -

"Did you know that the word sapiosexual comes from the Latin root _sapiens_ , meaning wise?"

"Bastard," Adam panted out.

"No need to be ashamed, Parrish," Ronan grinned evilly, though he gasped as Adam stuffed way too much lube into him impatiently, "We all have our kinks."

Before Adam could get a second finger properly in, he popped himself off Adam's hand and straddled his hips instead.

He recited in a breathless voice, as he lined Adam up, adding precum to the slick already between his cheeks.

_Fige puer positis nudus tibi praebeor armis_

_hic tibi sunt vires_

(All right, boy, skewer me. I've dropped my defenses,

I'm an easy victim)

Adam’s body was on fire.

And Ronan's ass was _impossibly_ tight as he started to lower himself on Adam.

And Ronan continued surreally quoting erotic Latin poetry, blowing Adam's mind:

_hac tua dextra facit_

_huc tamquam iussae veniunt iam sponte sagittae_

_vix illis prae me nota pharetra sua est!_

(Why, by now

Your arrows practically know their own way to the target

And feel less at home in their quiver than in me)

Adam's brain was on fire. How could Ronan _recall Latin_ at a time like _this_?

" _Fuck_ \- you’re not -" Adam groaned as his head was being coaxed inside Ronan, Ovid's words still ringing in his ear, “you're not ready,” he managed to say, before his brain started to shut down.

There was nothing in the world now except the sweetly yielding entrance to Ronan’s body.

"Shh. Sometimes it's nice to feel a little burn, Parrish," Ronan hissed, as he moved incrementally, "And you just fucked me last night."

"Jesus, Ronan, you're …" Adam moaned, as his head slipped almost painfully into Ronan. He wanted to say: 'you're too much, you'll be sore from earlier, you're too goddamn sexy'. He wanted to write poetry about Ronan's excruciatingly hot-as-fuck ass and pull his hair out at his hot-as-fuck Latin quotes.

Instead, he was speechless and mesmerized by Ronan looking directly at him, as he opened himself up on Adam using gravity.

Ronan's jaw was clenched tight. But there was a fierce clarity to him, like when he was racing or fighting. Ronan was terrifyingly present right now. For a moment Adam thought of angels, and how, if you saw their true form, it was supposed to blind you.

Every bit of Ronan's electric energy was concentrated in this moment, on this movement - like the pain had focused him.

On the other hand, Adam was trying to think about anything _but_ this moment, this movement, so as not to come immediately.

He dug his fingernails desperately into blue-veined thighs, their muscles quivering with the control of Ronan's descent, as he silently recited the list of the Presidents of the United States in order. He was sure he was going to die if this continued much longer.

By the time he reached the second George Bush he was all the way inside Ronan and lying flat on his back. Both of them were panting, though really, they had hardly moved at all.

For a long moment they gazed at each other. Then Ronan lifted Adam's clean hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles softly. It was an old world, courtly gesture, but it suited Ronan somehow. Just as much as sitting on Adam's dick suited him.

Adam marvelled at how both these things could be equally true.

Ronan mouthed at Adam’s palm and the inside of his wrist with his eyes reverently closed, as he began to fuck himself luxuriously on Adam's cock.

Adam loved this position. Loved seeing the magnificent length of Ronan's body towering over him, sinuous and sensual. He ran his hands over Ronan's hard, undulating abs, and pinched his sensitive nipples roughly, until they were a tortured red.

Ronan loved this position too, Adam knew. He loved controlling the angle, loved edging them both, loved driving Adam insane with his inventiveness. His hands were everywhere, putting on a show while stroking himself, reaching back and playing with Adam's balls and perineum, wrapping his fingers around where Adam disappeared into him.

He fucked himself on Adam's cock like it was a religious experience.

And he never once took his eyes off Adam.

Being the focus of Ronan Lynch's complete attention seemed to suck all the air out of the room. Adam couldn't breathe suddenly for how beautiful this complicated man was.

He put his hand on Ronan's stubble-rough cheek.

"I love you," he whispered. He had never meant anything more in his life.

In response, Ronan bent down and kissed his chest softly, above where his heart was racing. He looked up at Adam with crystal clear eyes.

"You're home," Ronan said.

" _You_ are home," Adam replied.

Ronan's eyes widened in surprise. He leaned down as Adam reached up and their mouths collided hungrily.

Adam got lost in the sweet dark magic of Ronan’s mouth as always - wanting to stay inside him and live there. It was home. He was _home_. The word was like a bell tolling in his chest.

How did he get so lucky?

How did Adam Parrish get given something so perfect without having worked for it?

Ronan finally said, hand on his cock, "Gonna come on you."

It was not for permission, Adam knew. It was the thrill of being able to say the words and then follow through with the deed. This was Ronan marking Adam as his.

Adam felt Ronan clench around his length, as warm spurts landed on his chest and stomach.

He lay back down, planted his feet and began to fuck up into Ronan. He held onto his throat with one hand, supporting his weight, as Ronan moved like a pliant rag doll to Adam's thrusts.

As he started to come back to himself, Ronan braced his hands on Adam's chest, smearing his own cum.

He bent down and licked a dollop of it off Adam's nipple and continued to lap at the white splatters on brown freckles.

" _Ronan_ ," Adam moaned.

He wanted to say, _it's your own cum_ , but his brain was melting at Ronan's lewdness.

Ronan ran his fingers through the mess, and looked at Adam as he cleaned his hand with his tongue and mouth, purposely vulgar and mind-blowingly hot. He'd started to fuck himself back on Adam's cock again now, swivelling his hips and keeping Adam's dick deep inside him.

"It's okay, Adam," Ronan said drunkenly, as he swirled up a last bit and brought it to Adam's lips, messing up his chin. "It's all the same. My cum, your cum."

Adam took long work-calloused fingers into his mouth, tasting Ronan's familiar bitterness.

"We're the same," Ronan whispered, bent over him, watching muzzily as Adam continued to suck his fingers. He sounded high on sex and love.

"Can't you feel it?" Ronan looked into his eyes then and said, soft and slurred, as if sharing a sacred secret:

" _Tamquam alter idem._ "

As if another self.

The words had the weight of a vow.

They were on Ronan's bed, where they had first kissed.

They were in _their_ room, their _home_.

Adam was going to leave behind a part of himself inside Ronan.

Their lives and futures and destinies were intertwined.

Ronan and he were fused together, in every possible way.

Like twin selves.

Adam’s last coherent thought before he came was:

_Alter idem._

*

In the middle of the night, Adam jerked fully awake with a gasp, like he used to when he'd have nightmares about the demon.

He hadn't had one in months.

But this … this hadn't been a nightmare.

This was something else. Something green and powerful that had reached out to brush his mind. Introduce itself. Recalling a feeling he had almost forgotten how to have.

Ronan was already awake and looking at him, as if he knew what Adam had dreamt about.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Adam asked, voice sleep roughened.

"You felt it too?"

"It felt like _Cabeswater_."

"It's not. Well, it is, kind of. But it's - more.

"How? What?" Adam didn’t know what he wanted to ask. There were too many questions clustering in his cottony head.

"I started dreaming it yesterday. It was more a … feeling, a glimpse. Like a pinhole I could see through."

"Even _you_ couldn't have created that thing in my dreams in one day."

"No. It was already there, when I looked through the - the chink. It had been waiting for me to find it, to manifest it."

"Will it be the same as before?"

"More powerful. We need to figure out crap for it first, though. Defenses, powers, shit like that."

"What do you call it? Cabeswater 2? The New Cabeswater?"

"It calls itself Lindenmere," Ronan said, "And it already knew me. And now it knows you."

They looked at each other.

Adam said, anticipation strumming through his veins, "You better give it the shape you want, before it gets impatient and manifests itself anyway."

"This is going to be one hell of a motherfucking summer, Magician," Ronan grinned at him, sharp and triumphant, the high of Creation blazing in his eyes.

Adam laughed delightedly, heart soaring with adventure.

They were the Greywaren and the Magician, young and powerful and in love.

The coming days at the Barns stretched idyllic and golden before them, full of endless possibilities.

Yes.

Life had _started_.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to everyone who rec’d this fic - publicly or privately. Anon and non-English comments welcome, here and on my [Tumblr](https://creativefiend19.tumblr.com).
> 
> Here's [sneakygeit's](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25032343) fabulous NSFW fanart for this fic! ETA: And another gorgeous one [irrumabo te](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682967)!


	14. A great trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue, Gansey and Henry head off on their road trip, leaving Adam to deal with the fallout.
> 
> He decides that he needs to up the ante.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big chapter. Big. Huge. 
> 
> And this isn't really a content warning because *waves at fic tags* but there's more D/s and harder kink - and some jealousy and possessiveness. Lots of high-tension angst, and the explicitness gets turned up as well. 
> 
> If you need more specific info, it's in the end notes. If you want to avoid any of it, DM or Anon me on my [Tumblr](https://creativefiend19.tumblr.com) and I’ll reply asap.

Adam collapsed back into bed and immediately fell asleep. 

He had woken before the summer sun, fed the non-dreamt animals, and had yawningly taken care of the other jobs that a farm needed done before the ass-crack of dawn. He was amazed Ronan did so much so early without a peep of protest. But, then, Ronan didn’t actually sleep, most nights.

Hours later, Adam was vaguely considering waking up when the door to the room clicked open and Ronan came in.

“Mmm, you're back,” he said, against Ronan's lips. 

The rest of them had returned a few days ago from the Ganseys’ farewell party for their only son, before he took his gap year. Somehow, Adam wasn’t surprised that an ‘intimate family affair’ had turned into a big Republican shindig. 

Ronan had stayed back in DC - at Declan’s insistence - to take care of lots of legal paperwork and attend grim meetings about Matthew’s future options. Apparently, the career counsellor and college admissions specialists had not been encouraging. 

“Did you miss me?” Ronan asked, undressing carelessly and shedding clothes as he walked towards the ensuite. 

Adam hoped his combination of scoff and snort had carried through the closed bathroom door, but he doubted it.

Soon a gust of cold air entered under the covers, followed by a warm, slightly damp body. Ronan smelt of his body wash and aftershave and minty toothpaste. They tangled their naked legs together and kissed, soft and slow.

Too fuzzy around the edges to filter his thoughts, Adam said, eyes closed, “I did miss you.”

It’d been three days without Ronan. It had not been easy to lie in this bed alone. He didn'twant to think about how Ronan would be doing exactly that in a couple of months.

“I have a surprise for you,” Ronan drawled.

“Hmm?” Adam snuggled up against him, almost asleep again, “What is it?”

Ronan hitched his knee over Adam's hip, took Adam’s hand in his and ran his fingers along his ass crack. 

And Adam jolted all the way awake, like he'd been shocked by a defibrillator. 

His eyes were wide on Ronan’s, who was smirking at his expression.

“What the _fuck_ , Ronan?” Adam said, voice awed. Hot lust flooded through every nerve ending in his body, destroying his ability to think.

Because Ronan’s ass was as smooth as silk. 

Ronan moved Adam's hand from his back to cup his front.

He was completely hairless - everywhere.

“The fuck?” Adam was unable to make proper words, as he got on his knees and stripped the covers off of Ronan, all in one desperate motion.

He was confronted with miles of creamy skin, except for Ronan's cock and balls - and not a single dark hair in sight. 

The summer sunlight aimed a beam right at Ronan’s clean groin, like a spotlight.

“What did you do?”

“What d’you think, genius? I got waxed.”

“Holy fuck.” 

_Holy fuck._

Adam was speechless.

He stroked his hands and nose and lips wonderingly over marble-like skin, again and again. Ronan didn’t have much hair on his torso, surprisingly, given his almost immediate five o’clock shadow, but his happy trail and chest hair had disappeared as well.

Adam turned Ronan over and ran his hands reverently over silky thighs. He roughly kneaded and pulled apart his smooth ass cheeks; Ronan’s entrance looked bare and delicious. 

“God. _God. Fuck,_ Ronan _.”_ Adam gritted out, desperately. He had to stop and swallow as his mouth flooded with saliva. 

He hadn't thought this ass could get any more perfect, but Ronan always managed to surprise him.

Ronan spread his thighs and got on his elbows and knees to give Adam a better look. 

“See anything you like?” Ronan said with breathless triumph, over his shoulder. 

“Look at you. You're so pretty,” Adam crooned to Ronan's naked asshole, inches from his nose. He stroked it with a single finger and watched it wink at him coyly. 

Adam kissed it fondly in response.

“Did it hurt?”

“The hot wax was fucking amazing, but everything else hurt like a bitch.” 

Adam licked a wet sloppy line along the smooth delicious skin. It was like nothing he had felt before. 

He held Ronan open and looked at the now shiny valley, wet with his spit.

“ _Jesus Christ_. Why?”

“I was talking to a friend …”

Adam interrupted, unable to help himself, “You were _talking_? To a _friend_? About _waxing_?” He didn't know which part surprised him more. Another thought struck him. “How long did all this take?”

“I didn't let some guy painfully wax me just to play twenty fucking questions with you, you goddamned nerd.” Ronan sounded exasperated. 

Adam froze.

There was a beat of stunned silence that sucked all the ambient sound into it.

And then, possessiveness detonated in Adam, blowing out windows and bleaching his vision white. 

“You let _some other guy_ touch your _ass_?” he asked, voice ominous.

Ronan was silent. Judging from how still he became, he had not been expecting this reaction. 

To be fair, it surprised Adam just as much. Ronan was the jealous one, usually. But his logical brain had shorted out - leaving something primal and savage in its place.

Some other guy had touched Ronan … everywhere. _Every_ where _._

For some reason, Adam had subconsciously assumed it was a woman who'd waxed Ronan. He didn't know why that would've made a difference, except that it did. 

“He touched your balls? And your cock?” 

“I got my balls waxed, so what do you think?” Ronan turned back and rolled his eyes.

“Did you _like_ it?”

Ronan scoffed dismissively and Adam’s rage flared bright - he yanked Ronan’s head back by his jaw and hissed in his ear. 

“I asked you a question. Did you get hard?”

“No,” Ronan bit out, defiant.

Adam knew Ronan wouldn’t even have thought about it that way. And even if he had gotten hard, it would have been purely about the … stimulus. 

But that wasn’t the only issue.

“And he hurt you,” Adam said, letting go of Ronan. “Did you like _that_?”

There was a long pause. And then: “Adam.”

Ronan sounded … placatory. 

At that _tone_ , that tone that Ronan had never used before, knowing that Ronan had _liked_ the pain inflicted on him by some other man (he would’ve said ‘No’ immediately, if not) … Adam morphed into pure, furious instinct. 

His last thread of sanity snapped.

"I let you out of my sight for _seventy two hours_ , and you let some other guy touch you and hurt you and you _paid him to do it_?" he snarled, off his head with jealousy.

Ronan was silent.

“Did you hold your knees up for him? Pull your cheeks open for him, like you do for me? To show him your hole?” 

Adam knew he sounded vicious and vulgar. 

He didn't give _a fuck_ what he sounded like.

“Yes,” Ronan gasped, his voice more shaky now.

“Did he put his fingers inside you?”

“No. And he wore gloves.”

Gloves.

Adam felt stupidly better. He breathed out, trying to calm himself. 

At least no one else's skin had touched Ronan _here_. This place, that was Adam’s obsession. That was Adam’s alone.

He smacked his hand smartly across Ronan’s rump and grabbed it roughly. “Only _I_ get to touch this ass.”

“Yes,” Ronan gasped at the impact.

“Only I get to put fingers and tongue and cock and anything else inside you,” Adam pressed against his hole with both thumbs.

“ _Shit._ Yes.” Ronan’s cock swung between his legs, thick and long and leaking.

Adam bent down and took mouthfuls of smooth flesh between his teeth, furious with lust, until Ronan actually bucked and shouted out. And Ronan had a ridiculously high pain threshold, which meant it had really hurt. 

Adam’s cock leaked a clear stream of arousal, as he got on his knees and looked down at the numerous marks, angry against pale, hairless skin.

“Fucking Jesus, Adam. Don't _stop._ ” Ronan tilted his fuckable behind tantalisingly, offering himself for more. Pleading for it.

And something inside Adam _soared_. 

Because - Ronan wanted this too. Wanted this rough, savage side of Adam. The part of him that gloried in leaving his mark on Ronan during sex. 

Ronan didn’t think he was a monster, for doing this.

Adam wasn’t a monster for wanting this.

He turned Ronan around, and looked in his eyes for the first time in three days. 

Ronan’s face was flushed with emotion and arousal, gaze hazy. Adam straddled his hips and deliberately ran his hands up smooth abs and pecs, feeling them tremble under his palms … and gently slid a hand around Ronan’s throat. 

There was no pressure in the gesture. But there was weight. 

Ronan’s mouth opened on a gasp, eyes dark and desperate. 

Adam bent over, looking down into his face, and stroked his thumb lightly against a stuttering pulse point.

“Only _I_ get to hurt you,” he told Ronan, voice pitch black and absolute.

He hadn’t known he was going to say those words until they came out of his mouth. 

Both of them looked at each other for a few life-changing heartbeats.

Then Ronan breathed out the only holy name he would never blaspheme. 

"Adam."

Adam slowly stroked his thumb along Ronan’s chin and down to his Adam’s apple. He kept it there, feeling the vibration of Ronan’s baritone as he said again: "Adam", voice part imploring, part adoring. 

“You will tell me,” Adam said calmly, “before you let another man touch your cock or your ass."

There was no emphasis in his voice. It wasn't an order. It was already fact, just because he'd said so.

"Yes," Ronan said. Also a statement.

Adam slowly slid his two middle fingers over Ronan’s chin, over his bottom lip and into his wet, hot mouth, mimicking how he would slide those fingers into his wet, hot ass.

His rock hard cock twitched, knowing it was going to be buried inside Ronan soon. 

Something inside him calmed at that.

Ronan’s eyes closed in worship, as he accepted the sacrament of Adam's body onto his tongue.

He watched Ronan’s lips move in prayer over his knuckles. 

He needed to think, later, about this - about what had just happened, about what he’d said to Ronan. He remembered what he had thought that day in the car, on the way to Harvard. After the debacle of the tied up sex. 

He’d told Ronan he was willing to try some things on Ronan’s kinky list, if Ronan was willing to work on his fears of Adam leaving him.

Adam had thought that day: _no more hiding_. 

And it was true. With Ronan, he was seen. He was known. 

He was loved. _All_ of him.

Adam’s heart grew as huge as the sky. He couldn’t contain everything he felt for Ronan. He wanted more, _more_. He wanted to remember this feeling. This moment in their relationship. Ronan’s porcelain body like this.

He slid his fingers out of Ronan’s mouth, which very reluctantly yielded them, and said, “I'm gonna take some photos, 'kay? Maybe a video.” 

“Fucking Christ. _Yes_.” Ronan looked at him like he couldn’t believe his luck.

So, Adam then proceeded to take porn-worthy pictures and videos with his new phone. Of his hand caressing Ronan’s hairless balls and stroking his straining cock. Of his lubed finger entering Ronan’s bald hole. Of Ronan’s ass being stretched around his knuckles.

Of Ronan, with face pressed against the mattress, holding himself open with both hands so that Adam could take photos of his camera-ready ass, gaping and glistening and ready for cock. 

Adam paused, remembering that Ronan had offered up this submissive posture and this intimate view to some nameless, faceless stranger. 

But immediately after this thought struck him, the larger part of Adam saw this for what it was.

A gesture not of surrender, but of trust. 

Ronan allowing Adam access to the deepest parts of him. 

Inviting Adam into himself.

Letting Adam take whatever he wanted. 

The realisation twisted his heart with love - and shame. Adam’s possessive madness left him like a fever, as he felt his conscience devastate his insides.

 _Shit._ He was a petty, small-minded, insecure asshole. Ronan had come home after days away, joyfully wanting to surprise him. And Adam had made the gesture into something ugly. 

He threw the phone to the side, turned Ronan around and kissed him again and again, talking breathlessly against his mouth.

“Ronan. God. Ronan. I’m sorry. I'm not mad, okay? I just… I wasn't expecting … I wasn’t prepared - I just missed you. I love you. So much.”

Ronan stroked his hair and his back, steady and soothing.

“I know, Adam. It’s me. I get it. I love you, too. Just… - just fuck me. C'mon. It's okay.”

Adam hooked Ronan’s knee around his waist and lined himself up without breaking the kiss. 

Ronan exhaled and Adam inhaled. 

He allowed Ronan’s body to relax around him, instead of pushing. He sank into Ronan, as Ronan melted into him over infinite breaths, each one better than the last.

When he couldn't possibly be any deeper inside him, Adam stopped. And just breathed, feeling Ronan’s stomach move so intimately against his own.

He was in the most perfect place imaginable. 

A place that Ronan allowed only him into.

Where Adam belonged more than anywhere else in the world.

He watched every flutter of eyelashes, the clarity of the lines and flecks inside Ronan’s crystal irises, wet lips parting on needy gasps, pink staining high cheekbones. 

Ronan’s heart beating snug around his own had always been as life changing as the pulse of the ley line in his veins. He felt the minute adjustments Ronan’s body made to accommodate him.

All the small, familiar details that could only be recalled while living them again. 

Adam had never been more aware of how complete a moment could be. He has nowhere to go, nothing to do, but this - existing inside Ronan. 

The miracle of it was as unbelievable as the first time.

And finally, after Adam had his fill of kissing Ronan and being kissed by him, his fill of Ronan’s body clutching him everywhere, of Ronan’s skin moving warm and soft against his, he made them both come together - their faces buried in each other's necks, breathing in each other's smell, feeling each other's thundering heartbeats.

Ronan was home, after three days away.

Adam was home, now that Ronan was home.

In typical Ronan fashion, a half hour later, Ronan broke off biting into Adam’s mouth to say: “And take a damn video this time.” Adam huffed a laugh against his lips.

And so they recorded, for posterity, the evidence of them losing their young minds to lust.

Adam watched, on a phone screen, his length being swallowed by Ronan’s bare entrance. Ronan’s back tattoo was on full display, both of them swearing desperately as he took Ronan from behind.

He was nearly deranged with how turned on he was - knowing he and Ronan were going to watch this together later, and maybe recreate it. He thought about how it was going to feel, to fuck Ronan while _watching himself_ fuck Ronan. 

Jesus Christ.

He had to stop and take a few controlled breaths, so as not to come right then.

He managed less than a minute of his cock pornographically sawing in and out of Ronan’s ass, trying not to jostle the phone too much, before he had to give up on the camera and just focus on fucking Ronan. Nothing else mattered but seeing his dick disappear again and again into Ronan’s dusky pink opening, so cleanly visible that it was obscene. 

Adam repeatedly grabbed Ronan’s rounded ass roughly, as he fucked him hard, watching in fascination as the white and then red marks of his fingers appeared and disappeared on the lush curves.

He put Ronan on his back next, making him hold his knees wide apart to give the phone a clear view and for it to record the surprisingly loud percussion of Adam's slick cock sliding into him.

Ronan’s thighs looked mauled, showing the beginnings of bites and bruises. Adam stopped filming and ran his hands over the marks in satisfaction, digging his fingers into them. He then folded Ronan all the way over and pounded him into the mattress, like they both needed. 

After, Adam slid his fingers into Ronan's clearly used but still flawless ass, to show off to the camera the evidence of the two loads of sticky white cum he had left inside him - as they both had a filthily shameless discussion about it. 

The primal creature in Adam purred in satisfaction at how thoroughly he had filled his mate with his seed. 

This was where his truest essence belonged - deep inside Ronan. Deposited in his willing ass, to be absorbed into his receptive body.

To always be a part of him. 

No matter how far apart they were.

To become one flesh. 

One self.

God. Ronan was going to drive him truly insane one of these days.

Later, Adam admitted to himself that considering he'd hardly watched much porn, he hadn't done a bad job with his very first shoot. He had never guessed he was capable of giving such depraved directions and perverted praise, all of it clearly heard on the recording, his accent overflowing and spilling over the sides of his words.

Also, unsurprisingly, Ronan was a natural performer - not to mention ridiculously photogenic from every freshly-waxed and tattooed angle, just like a real porn star.

They should seriously consider a tripod next time like Ronan had suggested, he thought in sleepy exhaustion, mouth pressed against a hairless nipple.

 _Jesus_. Adam would never have thought today would turn out like this, when he'd fallen asleep last night.

Life with Ronan Lynch was never boring.

*

The next morning, lying in bed, Adam asked him: “Why’d you get waxed?”

“I thought it would be fun.”

“You thought it would be _fun_. To have your pubic hair _ripped out at the roots_ ,” Adam filled the words with as much sarcasm as he could. 

“Mm hm,” Ronan seemed intent on observing how the morning sunlight turned the hairs on Adam's forearm gold.

Adam looked at him for a long moment. Then he said, slowly, “You wanted the pain.”

Ronan’s finger kept stroking Adam’s arm, which meant it was true. 

“I needed a fucking distraction,” he said, eventually, “Everyone was spewing shit all over the fucking place.”

“What kind of shit?”

“Shit about Matthew,” Ronan said with a snarl, “And then Declan started about Gansey leaving. About getting you to help sort out the files for the Barns while you're … still here. Apparently both you fucking nerds think alike.”

Adam leaned forward and kissed Ronan, soft and sympathetic. Ronan passively let himself be kissed for an extended period of time, which was a sure sign he needed comforting.

“We need to use the healing cream on you again” Adam broke off and said, regretfully. He stroked Ronan’s lovely jawline and throat, mottled with plum-coloured fingerprints where Adam had yanked his head back.

He really needed to have some semblance of self-control when it came to Ronan. He sighed internally. It was not the first time he’d thought this; he doubted it would be the last.

“I don’t care,” Ronan huffed. The early morning light brought out the dazzling purity of his skin, and highlighted the contrast of the bruises. 

It wasn’t the bruises that Adam minded - anymore. It was the bad timing. 

“I care. They'll see…” Adam trailed off. 

The ‘intrepid adventurers’, as Gansey called their trio, were coming over to spend a few days at the Barns. They would leave from here on their extended road trip. 

Typically convolutedly, they were first driving East to Virginia Beach, before turning around to head West. When Gansey said coast-to-coast, he meant it literally, apparently (“Jesus fuck, old man, are you going to piss in the fucking ocean too?” Ronan had asked. “Well, not _piss_ in it,” Gansey had murmured, defensively).

Ronan snorted, “Gansey won't know what these mean. No one will.”

Adam experimentally fit his fingers to the marks. He couldn’t imagine what else they could pass for.

“We're not the only people having sex, y’know,” he cautioned Ronan, frowning at his flippant tone. 

“They're not having the kind of sex we are, Parrish. Trust me."

Adam thought that might be true. They had all been relatively innocent for their age, until quite recently. Well, maybe Ronan hadn't been _innocent_ , exactly, but definitely inexperienced, despite all his extreme fantasies. 

But Adam couldn’t bear the thought that people - okay, that Gansey - would find out about their - okay, his - _proclivities_. Though Ronan swore there was a wilder side to Gansey, Adam had only ever known him to be fastidious. 

He wouldn't understand Adam’s animal side. Not like Ronan did. 

He certainly wouldn’t appreciate it.

Adam hated that he still cared what Gansey thought of him. Though he had made some kind of peace with his ugly hunger, it didn't mean he wanted Gansey to see physical proof of him being rough with Ronan, even if they both liked it.

_Don’t break him, Adam. He’s not as tough as he seems._

Adam’s stomach bubbled with nervousness.

"Anyway, they'll never have marks like this,” Ronan was saying, gesturing at his own jaw.

"Why not?"

"Because they all have hair."

Adam burst out laughing at that, as he stroked Ronan’s shaved head fondly.

These were some of Adam's favourite moments of them together: liquid and muted and lazy. Cocooned amongst the bedclothes, in their own private world spun from whispers and quiet laughter. With Ronan soft around the edges from being recently loved, and Adam’s vowels languorous and unselfconscious. 

Bare legs intertwined. Morning wood appeased. Morning breath ignored. 

It was telling that they could only have these relaxed kisses and conversations if they’d already come once. They couldn’t be this close to each other, skin bare and surface horizontal, without things quickly escalating. 

Initially, he'd kept trying to air the room out and wash the sheets constantly, feeling guilty and embarrassed about how everything seemed to smell of … them. Now though, he loved that they'd left their stamp on this space. This was clearly their room, in their _home_. It still sent a thrill through him, and made him feel ridiculously grown-up.

“Do you wish I had hair?” Ronan asked suddenly, breaking Adam’s train of thought.

"Sometimes," Adam answered truthfully.

"Are you saying you’d like me to grow my hair out?"

"No. But... would you, at some point?" Adam had always been curious.

"If you gave me enough of an incentive, maybe," Ronan smirked.

"Liar,” Adam knew it would have nothing to do with him. “And wouldn't me holding onto it while I fuck you be incentive enough?" 

Ronan’s hips bucked slightly - involuntarily - against Adam’s thigh.

“I _want_ you to leave marks on me,” Ronan confessed. After a beat, he added, “You're not freaking out - about the bruises.”

It wasn’t a question.

“No.”

Ronan looked at him, curiously, probably remembering how Adam had freaked out after the night of the tied-up sex. “What changed?” he asked, finally.

Adam looked back at him. 

“I changed.”

* 

Adam leaned back against Ronan's chest, watching the light from the bonfire flickering on his friends' faces. Blue, Gansey and Henry were laughing, as they tried to fit more marshmallows onto the stick Gansey was holding.

It was the last night of their Barns stay, before they set off on their cross-country road trip.

Gansey looked younger than Adam ever remembered seeing him. Either being reborn for the...second?… (Adam wondered at the accuracy of the semantics) time had brought all his priorities into perspective, and he was determined to enjoy life the _third_ time round. 

Or being composed primarily of a magical, sentient forest was really great for your skin.

Adam supposed both could be true.

The way they were sitting around the fire was symbolic of the direction of their future lives, Adam thought. Him and Ronan together, Opal and Chainsaw trying to fight over over-charred toast nearby, and the three soon-to-be travellers sitting on the opposite side of the pit. 

Ready to go off on adventures that had nothing to do with dead Welsh kings or demons or cursed kisses. 

Gansey seemed both carefree and excited about the prospect.

It made Adam uneasy to think that perhaps not being saddled with the responsibility of Ronan and not needing to tiptoe around Adam's pride anymore played a part in Gansey's lightness of heart. Maybe Henry and Blue allowed him to just _be_ , in a way that he and Ronan never had.

But it wasn’t the past that was uppermost in Adam’s mind now. It was the future. The feeling that this might be the last time they would be _them_. Together. Young and _new_ , as Persephone would have put it.

Something gave a pang in Adam’s chest at the thought of all of these people, his _real_ family, being thrown into college and work and adulthood - to walk diverging paths that only crossed now and then. 

The thought was almost unbearable.

He had known it was coming. But the yawning hole in the pit of his stomach did not care how much forewarning he'd had.

“Hey, quit thinking so loudly, Einstein. You're harshing my vibe,” Ronan poked his side, holding out a melting s'more.

“You've been spending too much time around Matthew,” Adam scoffed, taking the sticky treat but not eating it.

As Ronan's lips pressed against his temple, his eyes followed Adam's line of sight to Gansey, and he felt Ronan tense. 

If the coming parting was a hole in Adam's stomach, it must be a chasm in Ronan’s soul. And Ronan's soul had gone through a lot in the past six months. He tightened Ronan's arms around himself and turned his head, putting his lips on his cheekbone and breathing open-mouthed against his skin. 

_It’ll be okay._

Ronan's answering gasp was shaky and vulnerable, but not wet. Yet.

That would come, Adam knew. The storm was looming.

They sat there in unspoken communion, battening down their emotional hatches ahead of tomorrow's fallout.

Adam was not looking forward to it. 

Blue and Henry had brought their sleeping bags outside, dossing down beside the glowing ashes. 

Ronan and Gansey, the two resident insomniacs, were sitting inside the blanket fort they'd all built in the living room the previous night. 

Between Blue and Henry and Opal, it was decorated with assorted ribbons, flowers and foliage, and no-power fairy lights made of real evergreen leafy vines that Ronan had dreamt for them to take on their journey. Henry's Robobee had taken many Instagram-worthy pictures of their evening, though he was forbidden to put any up on social media. 

Blue had printed out copies of two of the snaps for a collage she'd made as gifts for Ronan and Adam. One was a group photo where even Ronan was smiling, Opal in Blue’s lap and Chainsaw cleaning Adam’s hair. The other was of Ronan and Gansey together, lit by Ronan’s dreamt fireflies. It was a perfect moment in time - Ronan’s head thrown back, mouth wide in laughter, as Gansey, with an arm around his shoulders, grinned at him fondly. 

They looked amazing together, young and beautiful and happy - liege lord and knight. Blood brothers. Crazy boys.

It had made Adam’s chest ache something fierce.

They'd all slept in a puppy pile under the white sheets, bored to unconsciousness by Ronan answering Gansey’s more-than-twenty-questions about the cloud mattress and possible cow balloons.

Adam remembered the awkward moment when Ronan’s sweat shorts had hitched up a bit, exposing some inner thigh (one of Adam's favourite areas to target). Blue exclaimed loudly, "Lynch, you're all bruised up!"

Without looking at Adam, Ronan said, deadpan, "I was attacked by a wild animal."

How the bastard could lie without missing a beat, when he claimed to always tell the truth, Adam didn't know. He flushed, heart beating wildly. Anytime now, it was going to become clear to everyone what those purple marks, livid on Ronan’s pale skin, were.

“Wild animal? Here?”

“I dream up all kinds of shit, maggot. Last week it was a super-hungry lizard. It nearly took a chunk out of my finger.”

“What happened to it?”

“I released it into the forest.”

“Lynch, you idiot, it could totally mess up the ecosystem!”

As they squabbled, exactly as Ronan had intended, Adam exhaled in relief. No one seemed to have recognised the hickies and bites for what they were. 

Maybe Ronan _was_ right, and the others weren't having the kind of sex they were. 

So, tonight, while Ronan and Gansey chatted downstairs in the blanket fort, Adam was once again alone in their bed, sleep threatening to overtake him soon.

He had made sure his alarm was set for half past five. He needed to check the air in the Pig's (Pig 2's? Dreamt Pig's?) tires and figure out what else might go wrong in an engine-less car, so he could debrief Gansey. It’s not like they could take it to a mechanic if anything happened to it.

Too bad Henry and Blue were both useless around vehicles - though Blue at least was willing to learn... 

Halfway through that thought, Adam was asleep.

*

They'd left. 

Adam watched the last of the heat-dried dust billow in the wake of the burnt-orange dreamt Camaro.

Henry was driving because Blue and Gansey were both sobbing too much. Adam couldn't decide who had held him the longest, or tightest, between the two. 

Letting go of Gansey had been a kind of bereavement all over again. 

Whatever it had been for him though, it was nothing compared to what it was for Ronan.

Ronan sat on the porch steps, head bowed and fingers linked around his neck, rocking himself slightly. Tears steadily dampened the weathered stair below him. Adam had tried to take Ronan's hand, but for the first time ever, Ronan had shaken him off and moved away.

This was going to be bad.

*

That first day was difficult, but not impossible. 

Ronan was mostly outside - fixing roofs, mending fences and chopping wood, though winter was very far away. 

But Adam knew the combination of exhausting physical labour and working with his hands was good for him. He also knew that Ronan wanted to be alone, so he spent the day setting up the new computer in the office.

Ronan was silent a whole lot, answering in Neanderthal grunts, a black cloud following him around. He came to bed with Adam but sat up reading, headphones blaring EDM loud enough that Adam had to tell him to turn it down. Halfway through the night, Adam woke to hear the soft growl of the BMW fading into the darkness.

He sighed and went back to sleep. 

The next day, after a sulky monosyllabic lunch, Ronan took up the car keys and slammed the door behind him - even as Adam was asking what time they had to be at the farmer’s market tomorrow. 

Adam sighed, shared a look with Opal, who looked back at him wide eyed and worried, and put Ronan’s untouched grilled cheese sandwich away (it was one of the few things Adam made that Ronan liked).

He expected Ronan home in the evening. 

And then, when he didn't show, expected him for dinner. 

Adam looked around while locking up, just in case Ronan was up on some outbuilding’s roof. But he wasn't on the property.

The whole time, Adam had been calling Ronan’s phone with - of course - no response. Finally a recorded message said the phone had been switched off. Adam looked up at the still-light summer sky and actually screamed long and loud, out of sheer frustration.

After dinner, he settled himself to wait on the porch. He wasn’t worried. Well, okay, he _was_ worried, but more for the speed and recklessness of Ronan’s driving than anything else. Adam was pretty sure he was burning off his emotions with rubber, and not through alcohol, like he used to. 

At least he hoped that was so. 

Ronan wasn’t stupid enough to drink and drive, was he? 

Adam couldn’t remember if he used to do that earlier. He knew that the power of Ronan’s … _fealty_ to Gansey had kept him away from Kavinsky’s cocaine, but he wasn’t certain it had extended to other substances. 

Adam told himself not to yell at Ronan when he finally came home, even as another part of him was gearing up for a furious, rage-filled fight. 

As usual, because this was Ronan, Adam had no idea which side of him would win.

He put his feet up against the porch railing, and rocked in his chair to the furious pace of his thoughts. 

For as long as Adam had known Ronan, it had been Ronan-and-Gansey. Adam had never known a Ronan without Gansey. 

Except for those brief minutes when Gansey had died. No, not died - sacrificed himself. A move he had made to defeat the demon that was unmaking Ronan. 

Adam knew how that guilt must be eating Ronan. How it killed him, that he had been the reason for Gansey’s death in some way. Considering Ronan would have endured an eternity in Hell without hesitation, to protect Gansey. 

It would've been every nightmare Ronan had had about Gansey dying, come to horrifying life. 

Also, Adam just remembered, Ronan was the only one who hadn’t known that Gansey was on the death list. The rest of them had at least been somewhat prepared for the inevitable, while Ronan had been innocently and optimistically dreaming epi-pens and protective skins.

Gansey saving Ronan repeatedly after Niall died, in more ways than one, and Gansey dying for him eventually, was a debt Ronan could never repay.

And Adam knew something about debt. About how it weighed you down.

They had erased some of it when they had remade Gansey using Cabeswater. 

Ronan had not died, though. Cabeswater had.

And so the debt lingered. 

What Adam was dealing with was not just a Ronan burdened by loss, it was also a Ronan burdened by lack of sacrifice.

Adam needed to help him deal with that burden, somehow. But how? He felt helpless in the face of such epic grief.

Just then, Opal and Chainsaw came hurriedly up to the house, both screeching “Kerah! _Kerah_!”

Opal said, breathlessly, standing on the porch steps, “Kerah is having a _furvusonum_.” This was her word in the dream language for the nightwash. 

Adam’s heart stopped. “How do you know?”

“I feel it _here_.” She indicated her chest. Chainsaw cawed in agreement. As psychopomps, they must be able to feel when something was wrong with their Dreamer. 

Shit. _Shit._ The fucking nightwash. Adam hadn't even considered that might be the reason Ronan was late. He'd assumed they were free of it, now that Ronan was back at the Barns. 

He’d thought himself helpless a minute ago. But that was nothing compared to what he felt now. 

Right this minute, Ronan was dying - somewhere. And Adam, as always when it came to the nightwash, couldn’t help him.

“Do you know where he is, Opal? Is he far away?”

Opal shrugged.

“Chainsaw, can you find him?”

The raven screeched in assent and took off, but Adam didn’t think it would help much.

Adam usually never asked for help. But when it came to Ronan’s well-being, he would happily eat dirt, if it helped. He called Fox Way, though it was after midnight.

“Maura, Ronan’s somewhere near the valley and is having an attack of the nightwash, according to Opal. Can you use the pendulum to tell me where on the map he is, roughly?”

“Adam, honey, I'm so sorry,” Maura sounded it too, “- but it’s too small an area. And the ley line always makes it difficult to divine anything near it.”

Adam tugged at his hair in frustration and swallowed down the swear words that came to his lips too easily after all these months with Ronan. “If he doesn’t come home tonight, I’m coming there to scry, ‘kay? Maybe quite early in the morning.”

“Yes, of course. Wake us up, if you need to.” 

It wasn’t like Adam could go right now anyway. Ronan had taken the BMW, and the Hondayota was up on blocks. 

Finally, around 3 AM the car came up the driveway slowly, a sure sign that something was wrong, given that Ronan was driving it. Chainsaw flew protectively alongside his window.

Ronan’s face had remnants of black on it. He’d taken off his tank and used it to wipe himself down, very obviously, but there were still smudged streaks on his neck and chest. 

Adam ran to him in silence and held him close, breathing in the fragrance of his warm skin, even if it was acrid. Ronan clung to him as well, fingers painfully digging into the space between his ribs. 

Ronan was alive. He was _alive_. Everything else was secondary. Adam silently thanked a God he didn’t believe in.

“How long was I away?” Ronan said, as he walked into the kitchen, followed by Opal and Chainsaw.

“It’s been more than twelve hours. Opal said you were having an attack of the nightwash, so I sent Chainsaw to look for you. Where were you?

"I was parked in a field near Mole Hill, when it happened," Ronan propped the fridge door open with a foot as he took out a carton of milk. “I must’ve passed out.”

“I called Maura. I was going to go scry for you,” Adam leaned against the doorway, needing it to hold him up. He was almost shaking with reaction. “I called you but you didn’t pick up. And then it said it was switched off.”

“It was on silent, and then it died,” Ronan didn’t seem the least bit sorry, and Adam's temper began to stir, despite his best efforts _. Don’t fight with Ronan. Don’t fight with Ronan._

“You could’ve plugged it into the car charger. You could’ve told me where you were. I didn’t know what to _do_ , Ronan.”

Ronan wiped his mouth, streaks of milk running down his chest, and said, “There’s nothing you can do.”

“Right. I’m just gonna stand by and watch you die,” Adam scoffed, rolling his eyes. “There’s no need to be so goddamned dramatic, Lynch.”

“Fuck you, Parrish,” Ronan threw the carton so it landed in the sink, the remaining milk arcing in the air. “This is not dramatic. This is practical. There’s _nothing you can fucking do_ , even if I have an attack right in front of you. We don’t know why it happens or how to fix it.”

“We need to figure it out then. I thought we were done with it now that you’re back here. What if you get another attack when I’m gone?”

Ronan shrugged, careless and uncaring, “I die?”

“Lynch,” Adam’s voice was dangerous with warning.

“What the fuck would you be able to do about it anyway, from hundreds of miles away? Might at well start practicing now, Parrish.”

“Shut up, Ronan. I’m not mad about the nightwash. I’m mad about you never picking up your phone.”

“Okay, fine,” Ronan had that tone of voice that told Adam he was going to push every button he could, “Let’s say I pick up my phone every time. Okay? And the one time I don’t, what’re you gonna do then? Huh? Call the witches? Call the cops? Drive down for eight fucking hours and look in every ditch? How is me picking up or not picking up my phone going to change a _fucking_ _thing_ when you’re all the way in Harvard? Don’t talk shit.”

Adam had told himself he wouldn’t shout at Ronan, but his throat was swelling full of acid words that he needed to spew out. He fought to swallow them back in but he was choking on them. 

And then the fridge door started beeping because it had been standing open for so long. And of all the things that had happened that night, that continuous, irritating sound and Ronan just standing there not closing the goddamned thing _because he was the most infuriating person on the planet_ was what finally pushed Adam over the edge. 

“If you pick up your phone every time, at least I’ll know something’s wrong if you don’t. But right now I can’t tell. Because you DON’T _EVER_ PICK UP YOUR MOTHERFUCKING PHONE, LYNCH! You say you love me, but you CAN’T EVEN TAKE MY CALL, YOU BASTARD.”

Adam was shouting across the kitchen at the top of his voice, hands balled into fists. Wanting to do some damage to Ronan with his words, like Ronan had done to him with his absence. 

The hurt in him could only express itself through rage - because crying his eyes out was not an option right now.

“This is not about the phone, Adam. Don’t make this about that,” Ronan’s voice was dangerously quiet, because of course, when everyone else was angry, Ronan _would_ be contrarily calm. 

Especially when it was him who drove Adam out of his mind with worry, thinking Ronan was dead in a ditch somewhere. 

Well, he could’ve been, actually. 

All the fight went out of Adam at that thought. 

This was about Ronan’s stupid phone habits, yes. But it was also about him being a dreamer. The nightwash was not Ronan’s fault. 

Plus, Ronan was hurting right now. That’s why he’d gone out driving in the middle of the night. 

Adam breathed out a gust of over-heated air, “Ronan, I know Gansey leaving …”

Ronan slammed the old-fashioned fridge’s door with such force that the whole thing actually swayed a little, things rattling inside.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, ADAM,” Ronan was finally shouting, now that Adam was calm, “It’s not about any of that, okay? It’s not about Gansey leaving. Or _you_ leaving!”

“Then what the fuck _is_ it about, then?”

“It’s dreamer shit that I’m dealing with, you arrogant asshole. Not everything I feel is about _you_. You were _always_ going to fuck off and leave me.” 

Blue’s collages were lying on the table and Ronan viciously poked at the photo from graduation where Adam and Gansey were kissing Blue on either cheek.

“You asked me why I was upset looking at this on your phone the day of the graduation? It’s because I knew that _everyone in this picture_ would be fucking GONE in two months time.”

Ronan slammed the collage board back on the table with a huge _crack!_ He was still shouting, “But oh, wait, it doesn’t matter who leaves me or how far you all piss off to, because we can stay in touch over this _wonderful piece of_ _technology!_ ” Ronan held out his phone, pointing it at Adam. 

Then he threw it savagely against the stone wall, where it smashed into smithereens with an apocalyptic sound. 

The toughened glass shouldn’t have broken, Adam knew. The force Ronan used must’ve been terrific.

“Fucking worthless _piece of shit_!” Ronan snarled, “Is this supposed to be my substitute for you? So I can see your goddamn face on a tiny screen, and think you’re next to me? Or read some fucking words and feel like Gansey’s around again? I never asked you to stay, but don’t fucking lie to me that _this thing_ is going to make _anything_ better. DON’T FUCKING BULLSHIT ME THAT I WON’T BE ALONE.” 

At ‘alone’, Ronan’s voice cracked. 

And then, Ronan broke.

He slid down the kitchen cabinet, his sudden tears mixing with the streaks of the nightwash.

For a moment Adam looked at him, stunned, his ear still ringing from the sounds echoing around the huge room. 

Then he knelt down and gathered Ronan up into his arms, rocking him as he sobbed in great heaving gasps against his shoulder.

The storm had finally made landfall.

While Adam was setting up the new office, they’d found a mixtape Niall had made for Aurora, during some year he’d not been home for her birthday. It was full of him singing Irish love ballads and narrating poetry he’d written for her. Ronan had been listening to it in the shitbox, as Adam had taken the BMW to Boyd’s one day. When he’d returned, hours later, Ronan was exactly where he’d left him.

Adam had found him standing in front of his parents’ door later, clutching the tape.

Even then, hearing Niall’s voice full of love for Aurora, Ronan hadn’t cried like this. 

These wounds of Gansey leaving were so fresh, so raw. And for Ronan, with his soft, armourless underbelly, it must be almost unbearable. 

Adam stroked the stubble on his head, as he felt his tee getting increasingly damp and black. 

They heard Opal clomp away and slam the door, all Ronan mannerisms, which meant something had pissed her off and she was leaving the house. Adam had completely forgotten she and Chainsaw had been in the kitchen the whole time.

“Everything's changing, Adam. Everyone's leaving,” Ronan finally said, voice wretched. He took Adam’s hand and pressed his open mouth against his palm. 

Adam looked at Ronan’s long beautiful eyelashes brushing against his skin. He ran a gentle finger along the dark, damp clumps, separating them. 

He felt Ronan’s hot tears run down his arm. 

And just … let him cry. 

There was nothing they could do. Nothing Adam could say. 

Because - Ronan was not wrong. 

They _were_ all going to leave him.

But it didn’t mean he was _leaveable._

“Yeah, things _are_ changing, Ronan. And people are leaving. But, life is also ... starting. For you too,” he bent down to try to catch Ronan’s eye. 

When he didn’t get any response, he sighed and said, “You can - you can be _free_ here. To farm and dream and … live. There’s no other place you can properly do that, Ronan.”

Ronan rested his cheek in Adam’s hand, as he looked at him with wet eyes. 

Adam tried to explain what he meant. “You’d hate it in the city. The … creation space inside you is so huge. You need to live in a place that’s as big as that world. As magical. And your dad built this place specifically for dreamers.”

When Ronan didn’t say anything, he continued, gently, “And I’m always going to be coming back - every few months, for every break. For long weekends. Gansey will always be a phone call away.”

Ronan spat out, then, his viciousness only slightly reduced, “Phones and email and Skype and shit. They mean nothing to me. They don’t count for fuck, Adam.”

Adam frowned at that. Ronan and his luddite views on technology were really getting to be tiresome. 

“It won’t count to hear my voice?” his tone was sharp, “To hear about my day? To tell me about the stupid shit Opal ate, or send me pictures of how Chainsaw pecked through and unrolled a whole toilet roll down the stairs? Or discuss the design issues in the new stuff you’re trying to dream up?”

Ronan scoffed wetly, unconvinced.

“So, are you never gonna talk to me, then, until I come back to visit? The phone’s not just for you, y’know. I’m gonna miss you too - all of you. You’ll need to show me the sunset from the porch. I’ll need to see your stupid face in a tiny phone screen too, so I won’t be so homesick.”

Perhaps guilting Ronan into this was ruthless, but Ronan’s contempt for his phone needed to change. Adam needed to ensure that, for Ronan's own well being.

“I know you hate change. And you hate _to_ change. But everything’s been changing anyway, like crazy. And some of it is good."

Ronan raised an eyebrow in disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe that any change could be good. 

Adam rolled his eyes, “If I’d told you, last summer, when you were fucking around with K, that in six months’ time we’d be together, and you’d’ve quit Aglionby and be living at the Barns legally, would you have believed me? It was everything you’d wanted - and it had all seemed impossible at that time.”

Ronan gave a huge, tremendous, defeated sigh at that. He put Adam’s other palm to his mouth as well, and closed his eyes. But he was listening. 

“If my life didn’t change in the last couple of years, I’d be dead by now. And I’d never have met you. Or had a home. Or a love. To come back to.”

Ronan laid his temple against Adam’s chest then, exhausted with dissipated grief. 

Adam held him silently, for a long time.

He didn’t agree with Ronan, but he understood.

A few years ago, Ronan had lived right here in this house, with his large, loving - and complete - family. Then he’d lost his dad, lost his house, lost his mom and almost lost his life. And then he’d allowed people back in, slowly. Learned to love again. And had found his way back to this place and was trying to rebuild everything, including himself. 

And now he would lose people all over again. 

Adam didn’t know how to make Ronan feel better about the inevitable.

But he had to try. 

*

Ronan liked things unexpected, so that's what he was going to get. 

It had been three days since Gansey and the others had left. It hadn't been much time, but Adam had managed to quickly plan and buy his supplies. 

So - tonight, he was upping the ante.

Adam set up on the floor in front of the hearth. As he put down a sleeping bag covered by towels and blankets, unstoppered a bottle of oil and lit the candles, he smirked to himself - Ronan would probably think he was getting a massage.

He heard the back door slam. That was Ronan - Opal was spending the night at Fox Way. 

Ronan had taken off his tank and was rubbing down his sweaty torso with it as he walked in. He wiped under his arms and threw it at Adam, with a feral grin full of teeth.

“Shithead,” Adam said as he caught it with a grimace, “Lie down.” 

Ronan kicked off his jeans and boxer briefs and threw himself down on his stomach with violence. Everything since Gansey had left was done with violence. This was the Ronan who would bang his empty locker door again and again, to siphon off some of his anger and grief into noise.

“I didn’t ask for a massage,” Ronan said, as he placed his head on his crossed arms and looked at Adam sideways, eyebrow raised. 

“You’ve been in such a shitty mood, I wanted to distract you.”

“I can think of some other ways you could distract me,” Ronan reached back and clasped Adam’s wrist, pulling it towards his mouth.

Adam pulled his hand back; he slapped Ronan’s bare behind smartly and then rubbed it soothingly. “Let's grease you up first, Lynch.”

Ronan’s grin was dirty and wild. 

Well, Adam would be wiping that smile off his face soon enough.

He rubbed oil all over Ronan’s back. It was a good thing he'd already done some basic research on himself about how this might work out, given that he'd had to come up with something on the spur of the moment. 

A part of him thought his plan would fizzle out, and another part thought it might be too much. He didn't know which of those options was preferable.

He continued to move down to Ronan’s hairless butt. So convenient that Ronan had gotten waxed, he mused. Funny how things worked out. 

“What do you think I'm going to do with you now?" Adam straddled Ronan’s naked hips and bent down, mouth next to his ear, not caring that his tee and shorts would get stained with oil. 

“You said you're gonna give me a massage,” Ronan raised both magnificent eyebrows this time.

“ _I_ never said that. _You_ said that.”

“What the fuck are you going to do then?”

Adam felt anticipation clawing up his spine. It had a very specific flavour, the excitement of what they were about to do.

“I’m going to start by blindfolding you,” Adam said, low in his ear.

Ronan’s breath caught and then he exhaled slowly.

“Okay?”

“Yes,” Ronan’s voice was leaking excitement.

“And then …,” Adam waited, deliberately drawing the tension out till breaking point. 

This was a big moment for them. For him.

“Then I'm going to hurt you,” he said, voice calm and even.

Adam’s body was suddenly being raised and lowered with the force of Ronan’s full-blown panting. He was coming apart already, just from the words. 

He was pretty sure Ronan would never guess _how_ he planned to hurt him, though. Adam wanted to keep it that way for as long as he could. The shock would be half the thrill.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked softly.

Ronan just whimpered. 

“That’s not an answer, Ronan,” Adam said, voice laced with iron. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No. No _please_ ,” Ronan said, on an almost-sob. 

“What are the words again?”

“Wait and stop.” 

“Good.”

Ronan was stiff as a board now, coiled and vibrating in anticipation. 

Adam slid the sleep mask over his head. Before he placed it fully he said, “You sure? It’s gonna hurt, Ronan.”

“‘m sure,” Ronan sighed out, going from tense to relaxed as the world went dark on him. 

He had already given himself over to Adam. Trusting him completely, without even knowing what Adam was going to do to him. 

He was already immersed in the game. 

But it wasn’t a game. 

Not today.

He could hurt Ronan for real if he didn’t have all his wits about him. 

This was all on Adam now.

The candles flickered, but the room was brightly lit; he needed to see what he was doing.

Calmness settled over Adam like a shroud, almost like when he was meditating. He had this. He'd done his research. Everything was going to be fine. He had prepared for every eventuality.

From his vantage point of straddling Ronan’s legs, Adam took a photo of Ronan's naked back. He would take another - later. Before and After. 

Ronan jumped as Adam trailed cold lube along his perineum and onto his crack. Adam felt hot, tight walls part for his slick finger. He didn't even try to pretend that he was going to give Ronan a massage. The suspense would end in a moment anyway.

He added a second finger sooner than usual. They'd found that, after living together, they didn't need to prep as much. Fucking more often had self-propagating benefits, apparently.

As he found Ronan's prostate, Adam felt Ronan’s body respond from the inside out, shivering with every stroke. 

Time to push that envelope.

Keeping his fingers strategically hooked, he rose and knelt beside Ronan; he didn't want Ronan’s inevitable reaction to jostle him. 

He took up an orange candle, splashing a little wax on his own thigh to test it. Satisfied, he held it high above Ronan’s back and dripped a line of hot, burning liquid along his tattooed spine.

“Motherfucking SON OF A BITCH!!” Ronan bucked violently, his voice explosive with surprise. 

His entire body clenched immediately, in pained shock. 

Adam’s fingers were suddenly caught in the painful vice grip of Ronan’s ass, and Adam went instantly, unbelievably hard.

He had really, really wanted his cock to be buried in Ronan right from the start.

This felt like one of their major first times, and he wanted to be as entwined with Ronan as possible, to feel the full force of it.

That was, until he'd properly tried the wax on himself. As he jumped and shouted out as the lava-like liquid fell on his shins, he knew that his dick would be squeezed by Ronan’s body so violently that it would cross the line into real pain - maybe even injury.

So he'd compromised by burying his fingers in Ronan. 

Even with that alone, the pure surprise of Ronan’s virgin reaction to the wax was … indescribably arousing.

Not giving Ronan a chance to get his bearings, Adam poured a thicker line of wax, zigzagging across the first one.

Ronan shouted long and loud, and cursed out a stream of filth.

More pain than surprise this time. 

It was amazing how Adam could read his responses from just his fingers inside him.

It was absolutely intoxicating. 

Adam's painfully excited cock was now soaking his shorts. Soon it would drip through.

Ronan reflexively turned to look back at him. But Adam placed a hand on his neck gently and Ronan stilled and exhaled, shoulders relaxing despite the pain. 

He breathed heavily as Adam kissed and mouthed his neck.

“You did so good, Ronan. You took that beautifully. Was that too hot?” Adam asked, his fingers now lovingly fucking into him. 

There was no reply, just a soft whine.

“Ronan, was that too hot?” 

“No,” Ronan slurred. Then, after a moment’s silence, “‘s fine. More.”

“I won’t ask again, so just tell me if I need to stop, okay?”

“Mmmm.”

Adam huffed out a soft laugh, knowing instinctively there was no way Ronan would be in any state to call things. Adam would just need to keep an eye on him.

He sat on his haunches astride Ronan’s ass, knowing his reactions were now going to be a little less violent, after the initial surprise. He placed a cushion under Ronan’s pelvis, to raise his ass and give himself a nice slope to work with.

Adam bit down on the juncture of Ronan’s neck and shoulder as he pushed in three fingers slowly. He wanted Ronan’s entire attention on him. 

He splashed symmetrical blue wings of hot wax across tattooed shoulder blades, as he tapped his fingers on Ronan’s sweet spot. 

Pain and pleasure, he thought, as Ronan jumped and moaned. It was not clear which reaction was for which stimulus - the hot wax on the outside or Adam massaging him on the inside. He guessed it might be both. 

Adam remembered how the two conflicting sensations had been his own undoing when Ronan had given him a massage on the cloud mattress. How the extremes had confused his nerve endings and collapsed his mind. 

He wanted the same for Ronan, he thought, as he watched a river of molten green flow down the inked slope of Ronan’s back towards his shoulders. It chose its own path over the knobs of his spine and the valleys of his flexing muscles, before it slowed and then froze in place. 

All Ronan could do was lie there and track the path of the pain, as he twitched to the rhythm of Adam stroking his prostate. 

Adam could almost imagine what Ronan was feeling.

His whole existence right now must be Adam.

Adam’s fingers moving inside him and the drizzled points of bright pain Adam was gifting him. He only got to have what Adam chose to give him. And when.

Adam felt furiously alive.

He was the king of Ronan’s dark world. God to a god. 

That idea was so unbearable that Adam had to put down the candle, and slide into Ronan. He moaned low and long at how _good_ it felt - Ronan’s relaxed ass opening easily for his copiously leaking cock.

For a while he just mindlessly fucked Ronan's unresisting body. The slick slap of lubed skin, making Ronan’s ass quiver with each impact, was addictive. 

After he had burnt off his initial lust, Adam slowed and looked down at the magnificence that was Ronan under him. Broad back decorated with black art and coloured splashes. He saw his own cock buried between the muscled curves of the luscious ass.

To get to have this beautiful man like this, to be allowed to do these insane things to him, Ronan _wanting_ him to do it …. The privilege of it was too overwhelming for Adam to comprehend. 

He placed his forehead between Ronan’s shoulder blades and said, even as he fucked him with smooth strokes: “I’m so pleased with you, Ronan. You’re taking your pain so well. Like you take my cock so well. I’ll take a photo and show you how fantastic you look, okay?” 

Ronan lay blindfolded and boneless, body ebbing and flowing in reaction to each thrust. But he tightened gratefully around Adam, after a delay - as the words were processed in his hazy brain and the reaction transmitted to his slow muscles.

Adam covered more of the black on Ronan’s back with colour, feeling his body jerk each time. Adam’s cock was gripped as if by a tight glove, which clenched and relaxed all along his length in response to every new spatter of hot pain. It was the most incredible thing he’d ever felt.

He reluctantly slid out of Ronan, but planned to get back inside soon. He badly needed to drench Ronan’s insides with his cum.

But - pain and pleasure. So it was time for some pain again.

All the candles had burnt out, the wax drowning the now-small wicks. 

Adam poured a lot of the remaining wax over most of Ronan's rump and watched it trickle down the lovely pale curves. He hadn’t imagined that this ass could look any more enticing, but Ronan always managed to surprise him.

He then tested the temperature of the now-cooling liquid. And then covered Ronan’s wet, lubed up cleft with the sluggish wax. Ronan sank completely into the mattress, even as Adam’s fingers sank into his freshly fucked hole to protect it. He felt the soft flash of heat against his own skin, almost immediately dissipating into soothing warmth. 

Multiple colours bloomed, dripping down Ronan’s taint and pooling around his balls. 

Adam wanted to burn away any memory of some other man pouring hot wax in these places.

Ronan hardly twitched.

He was deep, deep in bliss. 

Adam sat back and gazed at Ronan’s prone, patterned body. 

It was almost unbearable to know that Ronan had earned these designs through pain, like with his tattoo. He remembered how Ronan had covered him with grease in Boyd's, months before. Adam had now marked him in some way too, however temporary. 

Ronan’s perfect body had always been a work of art - but now it was almost too beautiful to look at. 

And Adam suddenly knew that he didn’t care about coming inside Ronan anymore. What he wanted was his own whiteness added to the colours on Ronan’s back. Another mark of Adam on him. 

The most important mark. 

Adam braced a hand on the strangely unfamiliar plasticky surface of Ronan’s coated cheek as he frantically jerked himself off.

“You’re so fucking perfect, Ronan. So good for me. You take it so well, everything I give you. I can't believe you're mine. You're so goddamn beautiful,” he babbled, off his head with possessive lust.

Next time, Adam thought, high on power, he'd tie Ronan up while he was doing this. 

Have Ronan unable to move. 

Only moan.

Make him _totally_ helpless. Totally dependent on Adam. 

Leave him adrift, with only Adam as his anchor.

The only thing Ronan would be able to do would be breathe. 

A devilish voice in his head said: If you wrap your hands around his throat, like he wants you to, even _that_ would be in your power.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

Adam’s entire being convulsed with the heady intoxicating thrill of that thought, as he came. Ronan’s back was coloured with pain and now covered with cum. Marking Ronan as his, his, _his_.

He forced himself to move with a superhuman effort - exhausted by his intense orgasm and by the adrenaline leaving him - because he hadn't gotten Ronan off yet. He slid a hand under him and was surprised to find a limp cock and a thickly sticky mess. Ronan had already come - a while ago - untouched. 

Adam spent a moment taking a photo of the sight before him, before he wiped the cum off Ronan and slid the wax off his ass crack easily - all the lube had prevented it from sticking.

Adam kissed Ronan's oiled skin as he scraped everything off him. Most of the wax came off in easy chunks, showing that Ronan’s skin was an angry pink underneath. Adam pressed his lips and cheek against the heat, revelling in it and trying to soothe it at the same time.

He fed Ronan some mint chocolate wafers to rouse him from his stupor. He murmured praise and encouragement to him softly as he got him to walk shakily to the bathroom and sink into a tub full of hot water and the dreamt healing salts. 

As he wiped the rest of the softening wax off Ronan's skin, he asked, “How’re you feeling?”

“Fuckin’ amazin’,” Ronan’s voice was sleepy and stretched out.

“How bad was the pain?” 

“Was good.” 

Adam snorted. 

“I’ll put the healing cream on you in a bit.”

“No need,” Ronan turned to his side in the steaming tub, placed his temple against Adam’s collar bone and fell asleep. 

*

The next day, they were eating a late lunch. Opal was back and creating a complicated pattern with rocks and sticks and leaves under the table. 

There was silence.

But it was a good silence, not a sulking or glowering one, like had been the case recently. 

Ronan’s snarl of dark emotions had been consumed by the pain, Adam thought. He was quite pleased with himself for coming up with such a quick solution.

As if he had read his mind Ronan suddenly piped up, “I can’t believe you poured hot wax on me. How the fuck does your brain even come up with this shit?”

“Did you like it?”

“It was fucking insane.”

“I still don't know if you _liked it_ ,” Adam said, exaggerating the words for emphasis. 

“It was mind blowing, okay? Is that what you want to hear, you vain bastard?”

“Yes,” Adam said, surprising himself. “I want to hear that you liked it. Or that you didn’t like it. I need to know.”

Ronan looked at him for a long time. Adam didn’t look away. 

He remembered feeling like shit after the first time they had tied-up sex. Not knowing how Ronan felt. Not knowing if he was okay. He needed to be reassured that Ronan liked what he was doing. 

“I actually want to tell you what I’m planning to do - all of it. To know if you're okay with it. But you want it to be a surprise. So, you need to tell me after.”

Ronan stood up and came over to Adam’s chair and straddled him.

As Adam slid a hand under his tank, Ronan looked into his eyes. 

“I liked it,” he said, softly, “Very much.”

“Good,” Adam said. He was not kidding. 

“I like you,” Ronan said, completely serious, “Very much.”

Adam smiled, “Good.” 

“I love you.”

“Good.”

“Very much.”

“Good.”

“Asshole.” Ronan pinched him hard, and Adam almost pushed him off the chair in retaliation.

“I love you too,” Adam said, relenting, when they stopped laughing and horsing around, "Very much."

"You are an overachieving son of a bitch even when it comes to this shit, you know that? When you said _pain_ I never thought - fucking Mother of Christ,” Ronan shook his head in wonder. “How did you come up with that?” he repeated.

“You coming home all waxed got me thinking. And you remember our last night at St Agnes?”

Ronan grunted assent. He’d had a lot of hot wax fall on him too, while lighting all those candles.

“How long were you planning this for?”

“Only since the day of the nightwash. I had to do _something_. You were losing your shit.”

Adam had made up his mind, that night. He had been at his wit’s end about how to help Ronan deal with his grief so it was more manageable. 

Since they’d sort-of established that it something Adam was now willing to try – and Ronan seemed to definitely want it - Adam had come up with a way to cause him pain that didn’t involve… spanking (his mind shied away from the word _hitting_ ).

Adam had been (reluctantly) prepared to spend hundreds of dollars on special candles. 

Luck had been on his side for once though, as he found that the cheapest paraffin ones worked best, given Ronan’s rather over-extended pain threshold.

But he didn't want to burn Ronan’s skin - and tattoo - off.

So, Adam had learnt that hot wax poured close to the skin resulted in an ominous smell of singed hair, and that hardened wax was a bitch to take off. He’d experimented with heights and temperatures on the inside of his arm, and found that oiled skin made clean-up a bit easier. 

“Yeah. Well. It worked,” Ronan admitted, grudgingly admiring.

“Good,” Adam smiled up at him, tightening his arms around his waist. 

"Fucking nerd." Ronan bent down and kissed him on the mouth.

That night, Adam was almost asleep, but his brain was stubbornly whirring - as always. 

“Ronan.”

“Mmm.”

“By hurting you I was loving you, right?”

“Hmm.”

“So, I made you feel pain, because I care for you. Do you think -”

Ronan interrupted him, “No. It's not the same thing.”

Adam digested this for a while.

And then he said the thing that had been fucking him up for years. “I don’t know which is worse. That he hurt me even though he loved me. Or that he didn’t love me at all.” 

Ronan just wrapped his arms around him tighter and kissed the back of his neck. They both knew there was no good answer to that question. 

“Quit thinking so much, Einstein, and go the fuck to sleep,” Ronan said gently, breath tickling Adam’s skin.

“Yeah, right. Look who’s talking.” 

“Sleep.” 

“Mmm.”

Adam let out a huge exhale, feeling light hearted and scoured clean. 

It seemed like the pain he'd made Ronan feel had burned away something in him as well. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Taking videos and photos during sex, biting, blindfolding, wax play. Fleeting reference to Christian symbolism regarding Adam’s fingers. A verbal fight, full of a lot of shouting.

**Author's Note:**

> I was running on fumes for a while there. But I've been so touched by all the love you’ve shown this fic and me, here and on [Tumblr](https://creativefiend19.tumblr.com). 
> 
> It really, truly helped. I love you guys. 
> 
> Come say hi. Tell me if you liked this. Anon and non-English comments welcome.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [laundry day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25032343) by [sneakygeit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneakygeit/pseuds/sneakygeit)
  * [irrumabo te](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682967) by [sneakygeit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneakygeit/pseuds/sneakygeit)




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